Mummy Told Me Not to Tell (33 page)

The head and Mrs Morrison looked at me for confirmation and I nodded. ‘That’s right,’ I said. It was impossible not to be moved by Reece’s declaration and I saw Mrs Morrison’s eyes immediately mist. She’d
always had a soft spot for Reece and had built up quite a bond with him over the last year.

The head nodded and said, ‘That is good news. When?’

‘We have come here today only to say goodbye,’ I said. ‘We are going to be very busy, aren’t we, Reece?’ I glanced down at him again and he nodded vigorously. ‘We will be spending most of the next two weeks getting to know Reece’s forever family before he moves to them.’

‘Oh,’ Mrs Morrison said, clearly taken aback. ‘Oh dear, I see. Straightaway.’

‘It’s important we all say goodbye,’ the head said, recovering quickly from the news that he was losing his star pupil. ‘Let’s go through to the class now, and I’ll explain to his teacher.’

Mr Fitzgerald went ahead with Mrs Morrison, while Reece and I followed them through the ‘welcome’ door, which at times in the past hadn’t felt welcoming at all. As we went along the corridor Mrs Morrison dropped back from the head and said quietly to me. ‘I would have liked to have given Reece a goodbye present. It’s all happened so quickly. I’ll put something in the post.’

‘That’s very kind of you,’ I said. ‘And thank you so much for all you have done for Reece. He wouldn’t be where he is now in his schooling if it hadn’t been for you.’

She smiled sadly. ‘I’ll be sorry to see him go. He really has become a little treasure.’ And I knew she meant it.

The head knocked on the classroom door and went in, while Mrs Morrison, Reece and I hovered by the
open door. The class was just settling for registration and Mr Fitzgerald spoke to the class teacher, Miss Jones, who then waved for us to come in. With me holding Reece’s hand we walked to the front of the class as all the children stopped what they were doing and looked at us.

‘I have some very important news, children,’ Miss Jones said. ‘It’s good news, but also a bit sad for us. Reece has come here to say goodbye. He is going to live with his family in another town, so he won’t be able to come to this school any more.’ A little groan of dismay went up from the children and the teacher paused. ‘I know,’ she said, ‘while we are all very pleased for Reece we are also sad, because we will miss him.’ She turned to look at Reece. ‘Will you write to us with all your news, Reece?’

Reece nodded. ‘I will get my aunt to ‘elp me, ‘cos I ain’t so good at writing.’

‘Good,’ Miss Jones said. ‘We will look forward to hearing all your news. Now I think before we say goodbye we should give Reece three big cheers. Although I have only been Reece’s teacher for a few weeks, Miss Broom, your last teacher, has told me how well Reece has done, and how much she liked teaching him.’ She paused and then started the three cheers. ‘Hip hip!’

The class responded with a loud ‘Hooray!’ which was repeated three times. Reece looked so pleased and proud I could have wept.

When the class was quiet again the teacher said: ‘Reece, I expect you would like to say a special goodbye to Troy.’

Reece nodded. I stayed at the front of the classroom while he made his way between the tables and went up to Troy. Troy swivelled round in his seat and looked up at Reece.

‘Thank you for being my friend,’ Reece said. ‘I ‘ope I ‘ave another friend like you at my new school. I’ll miss you. Goodbye.’

‘I’ll miss you,’ Troy said. ‘Goodbye, buddy.’ They hugged. It was very touching and all the adults looked misty eyed.

‘Is there any work in your drawer you would like to take with you?’ Miss Jones asked. Reece opened the table drawer at his place and took out some workbooks and sheets.

‘Would you like to give his new PE kit to someone who needs it?’ I said to Mrs Morrison. ‘It’s hardly been worn.’

‘Yes, I will. Thank you.’

Reece made his way back between the tables and took hold of my hand again.

‘Goodbye, Reece,’ everyone called. ‘Good luck! Write to us!’ We left the classroom to the sound of rapturous applause. Even the head looked slightly pensive.

Mrs Morrison and Mr Fitzgerald went with us along the corridor and through to reception. ‘Let me know how he is getting on, won’t you?’ Mrs Morrison said to me.

‘Yes, of course, and thanks again for everything,’ I said. ‘I should really have bought you a present, but as you say there hasn’t been any time.’

‘Not at all. I’m happy Reece has made so much progress. I’ve enjoyed teaching him.’ A tear fell from her eye and she quickly wiped it away. When you work with a child as needy as Reece, who has overcome so much and improved, you develop a strong bond. Mrs Morrison would never forget Reece, nor he her.

We said a final goodbye, and the head and Mrs Morrison watched us cross the playground. They returned inside as the security gate banged shut behind us. Reece and I continued, hand in hand, along the pavement and to the car.

‘It’s sad to say goodbye,’ he said. ‘It makes you want to cry.’

‘I know, sweet, but very soon we will be saying lots of hellos, and that will make you very happy, won’t it?’

‘Yes, Cathy. I like ‘ello. Tomorrow I’m gonna say ‘ello to my new family. And I won’t ever ‘ave to say goodbye again.’

‘No, you won’t, love. That’s right.’

I’d phoned Aunt May the evening before, in line with Jamey’s timetable of introduction, and we’d spent nearly two hours talking, during which I had told her all the little things about Reece that would make his introduction and transfer easier for him, and them. Before coming to school I’d told Reece I’d spoken to May and they were all looking forward to meeting him the following day. Again in line with Jamey’s timetable, his aunt, uncle and Lisa would visit us the following day but only for a couple of hours. That first meeting is usually in the carer’s home, where the child feels safe
and comfortable. Lisa was taking the day off school so that she could come to this all-important introduction. Then the day after that Reece and I would be going to his aunt and uncle’s home to spend a couple of hours there. Reece would be able to look around the house and see his bedroom, which his uncle John had told me he had just finished decorating.

We then had a free day, and the day after that Reece and I would go again to his new home. I would leave him there for a few hours and return later to collect him and bring him home. Two days after that, provided everyone was happy that the introduction was going all right, I would pack an overnight bag and Reece would spend his first night in his new home. I would collect him the following afternoon, and this single overnight would be repeated two days later. Two days after that he would spend the weekend, and if everyone was happy he was ready I would move him.

The ‘free’ days in between were to give Reece time to adjust and consolidate all the new things he would be seeing and experiencing. However, these ‘free’ days were quickly filling, as the Guardian (her role now finished) and Jill phoned to make a time to come and say goodbye to Reece. Jamey wouldn’t be saying goodbye because he would continue to be Reece’s social worker and, I hoped (after our chat on the phone), would be seeing more of Reece in the future.

It was a very excited child I finally persuaded into bed at 8.30 that night, and one who was up again at the crack of dawn. When Aunt May, Uncle John and Lisa
finally drew up outside the house Reece was at the bay window in the front room waiting for them.

‘They’re ‘ere!’ he yelled at the top of his voice. ‘Cathy, they’re ‘ere! Me family.’

It was exactly eleven o’clock, the time they were due, which was good going after a two-hour drive. I went into the front room and took Reece’s hand. As the two of us went to the front door I’m not sure who was more nervous. Reece was bouncing up and down as though suspended from elastic, taking my arm up and down with him, while my stomach fluttered. I opened the door I saw that May and John were far from composed either. It was a life-changing meeting for us all.

‘Come in,’ I welcomed. ‘Lovely to meet you.’ We stood awkwardly in the hall and shook hands. It was Lisa who broke the ice by giving Reece a big kiss on the cheek.

‘Hello, baby brother,’ she said. ‘I’m your big sister.’

That was it for Reece: he was won over. Grabbing her arm, he zoomed her off to play with his toys, while I showed John and May through to the living room, where I offered them coffee. It was really strange talking to May, for she looked like Tracey — both in some of her features and colouring, but without the learning difficulties and all the anger and aggression that contorted Tracey’s face. To begin with I half expected her to jab a finger at me and yell accusations. Far from it: a more placid and gently spoken woman you could never wish to meet. John was a little taller than her, about five feet eight inches, stocky, but equally gentle in his manner. I thought what a contrast to Scott and
Tracey they were, and what perfect role models for Reece. I made coffee and brought it into the living room with a plate of biscuits. Lisa and Reece had their juice in the conservatory-cum-playroom, where most of Reece’s toys were.

May, John and I chatted easily and naturally, for after our initial reserve it soon became clear they were very easy to talk to, and we had a focal point for our conversation: the children’s best interests. May and John talked quite a bit about Lisa, and were aware of how careful they were going to have to be in making sure she got her fair share of attention. They recognized that once the initial euphoria and novelty of having a brother wore off, Lisa was going to have to adjust to having to share John and May with Reece. Until now she’d enjoyed being an only child and having them all to herself.

I noticed that Lisa called May and John Mum and Dad, although May said Lisa was aware her natural mother was Tracey. Lisa had never met Tracey, and had no wish to do so at present, although May and John knew Lisa might grow curious as she got older. Lisa was a tall, slender, attractive girl, with no family resemblance to her mother or siblings apart from having brown eyes. John said they had explained to Lisa that her natural father had never formed part of Tracey’s life, but if she ever wanted to try to trace him they would do what they could to help. And I thought that while this was pretty heavy stuff for Lisa to come to terms with it was a lot less heavy than the roots the other siblings would find out if they ever went on a
journey of discovery. I didn’t know how much May and John knew about the incest in the family — maybe nothing, maybe everything — but it wasn’t for me to broach the subject. Clearly May and John had handled Lisa’s questions about her natural family exactly right. Lisa appeared to be a happy, confident child who, as a result of her genealogy and upbringing, had none of the problems of the other children.

When Reece had finally exhausted Lisa they came into the living room and May and John spent some time playing with Reece — Snakes and Ladders, Draughts and Guess Who. I made some sandwiches at twelve o’clock and then just after one they began to make a move to go. The timescale of the introduction is always carefully planned so that all parties gradually get to know each other and no one feels overwhelmed. It is a lot for the adults to cope with as much as it is for the children. Reece and I saw them to the door, and Lisa said that she would see Reece again when he stayed overnight because she would be in school for his next two visits. Reece kissed them all goodbye and gave Lisa a big hug. John said he would email me some directions when he got home as their place was ‘a bit off the beaten track’.

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.