Mummy Told Me Not to Tell Read Online Free

paperwork was all correct and also for a bit of moral support.
    ‘OK. Thanks,’ I said.
    And I believe Karen phoned you yesterday.’
    ‘Yes, she was very helpful.’
    ‘Good. She worked with Reece’s family for a while. It’s a pity she’s not still on the case. She’s very practical and down to earth.’
    ‘Yes.’
    We said goodbye and I returned upstairs, where I was putting the finishing touches to what would soon be Reece’s room. With Lucy and Paula at school and college, and Adrian away at university, I was alone in the house and it seemed very quiet. Not for long, I thought. In a couple of hours I’d have Reece to entertain me! I finished putting the Batman duvet cover and matching pillowcase on the bed, and then I glanced around the room. I hoped Reece would like it. I’d put posters of
Star Wars
on the walls, and jigsaws and puzzles in the toy box; and, mindful that Reece was functioning at a much younger age, I’d included a poster of Winnie-the-Pooh, two soft cuddly toys and a wizard castle with play people.
    I always try to make the child’s bedroom suitable for their age and gender, with things that are likely to appeal, based on the information I have on the child. If the child comes with a lot of their own personal possessions, then I pack away what they don’t want of my things and put up theirs instead. It’s so important for the child to have their possessions around them: it helps them to settle and makes them feel secure.
    As I had been doing respite fostering for three months, the theme in the room had changed repeatedly and as a result there were little nests of drawing-pin holes where posters and pictures had been up and down. I’d filled them with a quick coat of paint, a pot of emulsion being another essential tool for good fostering.
    At twelve noon I was about to have a bite of lunch when the phone rang. It was Jill.
    ‘Sorry, Cathy, will you be able to manage alone this afternoon? I’ve been called into our south county office. One of the workers has gone home sick.’
    ‘Yes, don’t worry. I’ll be fine.’
    ‘Phone my mobile if you need anything. Otherwise I’ll phone you later after Reece is placed.’
    ‘All right, Jill.’
    Jill being unable to attend when a child was placed had happened before and I wasn’t unduly concerned. I’d been fostering long enough to know the procedure and Jill knew that. Had I been new to fostering another worker from Homefinders would have come in her place, but I could cope — so I thought!
    By 1.30 I was as prepared as I was going to be for Reece’s arrival. I wandered in and out of the front room, glancing up and down the street from behind the net curtains. Nerves were starting to get the better of me again, and I wished Reece had arrived as an emergency placement as Sam (and others before him had done); then I wouldn’t have had this build-up. But I reminded myself that if I was feeling anxious, goodness knows what Reece must be feeling, on his way to his fifth new home in six weeks.
    At just after two o’clock, when there was still no sign of Reece, I began thinking about giving Jill a ring to make sure everything was going according to plan. I gave one final glance through the front room window and as I did a silver car drove up and stopped outside the house. I looked out from my vantage point behind the nets and saw a boy who’d been in the rear of the car scramble over the top of the passenger seat, fling open thepassenger door and leap out on to the pavement. Aged about seven, heavily built with a shaved head, he began jumping up and down, yelling at the top of his voice: ‘Beat you! Beat you out! Beat you out the car, slag!’
    Reece had arrived.
    As I watched, a woman, who I assumed must be a social worker, jumped out of the driver’s seat, ran on to the pavement and grabbed his hand. ‘Don’t do that!’ she cried, anxiously. ‘It’s dangerous. You should have waited until I got out.’
    Reece, oblivious to her