Free Mummy Told Me Not to Tell by Cathy Glass

document drawn up by all foster carers detailing how they keep everyone in the household safe. It is not just about strapping children under seatbelts in the car or making sure there are batteries in the smoke alarms. It is also about how we treat foster children who have come from inappropriately sexual explicit homes, or have been sexually abused, and have therefore developed feelings and attitudes that are inappropriate and beyond their age. Iknew already from what Karen had told me on the phone that there was a suggestion that Reece’s father had sexually assaulted Reece’s half-sister, and that a paedophile had been going into the family home. What I didn’t know, and what the social worker, Jamey Hogg, would I hoped tell me when he returned from holiday, was whether Reece had witnessed or been included in any paedophile activity in the home. I also knew that Reece had been allowed to watch adult videos, which could account in some way for his viewing the girls in sexual terms, but without further details we would have to assume the worst and act accordingly. For if Reece did view Lucy and Paula as objects of sexual desire instead of older sisters, as his comment had suggested, then his behaviour would reflect that. Not only would it be very unpleasant for the girls but it could easily lead to Reece interpreting any affection from the girls towards him in sexualized terms. The whole subject of sexual abuse is sickening and sad but it is something that has to be dealt with by foster carers all too regularly.
    Although I had written up my daily log notes the night before, detailing Reece’s first day with us, I had been too tired to look at the placement forms. Now I wondered if they contained any more information on Reece’s background that I should be aware of. Settling Reece at the table with the two slices of toast and jam he had asked for, I quickly went into the front room, unlocked my desk and took out the placement forms; then I returned to sit opposite him at the table. I read as Reece ate, eating being another activity that appeared to keep him quiet for its duration.
    As I turned the pages of the placement forms, I saw there was nothing on his background beyond what I already knew, apart from Reece’s parents’ address, which came as something of a surprise. His parents lived in a flat on an estate no more than half a mile away. I hoped the social services had noted this, for it was a little too close for comfort, given that his parents wouldn’t be told our address. It was quite possible that we used the same high-street shops, which meant there was a risk of us bumping into each other. Not a problem if the child’s parents were cooperating with the social services, and were allowed to know where the child was, but clearly that wasn’t the case with Reece. I’d had experience of ‘impromptu’ contact before — in the shops or outside the school gates – and it’s a difficult and embarrassing situation for all, not to mention intimidating if the parents are angry and blame the foster carer. I would mention my concerns and Reece’s attitude to the girls to Jill when she phoned again — not that I thought for one moment the social services would move Reece because of where his parents lived, but it was something they needed to be aware of, if they weren’t already.
    I returned the placement forms to my desk as Reece finished his breakfast. Although he had been focused and concentrating while eating, as soon as he’d finished he was out of his seat, zooming around and streaking jammy fingers along the walls.
    ‘Come on, Reece,’ I said. ‘We’ll give you a wash and do your teeth; then we’re going out in the car.’
    The mention of the car seemed to please him, because he ran straight up the stairs and into the bathroom,with his arms outstretched and yelping at the top of his voice. I showed him how to squirt toothpaste on to his toothbrush and watched as he made a good attempt at brushing