Mummy Told Me Not to Tell by Cathy Glass Page B

— and I was standing in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil.
    Suddenly I heard Paula squeal, and then shout: ‘No, Reece! That’s naughty! Don’t do that!’
    Paula is the most quietly spoken and placid of my three children and it was so unlike her to raise her voice, let alone cry out in alarm, that I was instantly out of the kitchen and into the living room. Reece was still sitting on the sofa, now grinning from ear to ear. Paula was on her feet and looked flustered and alarmed.
    ‘What is it?’ I asked her.
    ‘Don’t know,’ Reece said.
    I looked at Paula, who, while not crying, was quite clearly upset and embarrassed.
    ‘I’m talking to Paula,’ I said to Reece. I looked again at Paula.
    She came up close to me and, with her back to Reece, said quietly: ‘Mum, he grabbed my breast and tried to put his hand up my skirt.’
    ‘Reece!’ I said, turning and glaring at him.
    ‘So?’ he said and shrugged, clearly seeing absolutely nothing wrong in his behaviour.
    ‘Stay there,’ I said to him. I drew Paula out of the living room and into the hall so we couldn’t be overheard. I wanted to speak to Paula first and find out exactly what had happened before I spoke to Reece.‘Are you all right?’ I asked. It was an unpleasant thing for a grown woman to have to deal with, let alone a self-conscious teenager.
    ‘Yes,’ she said, still acutely embarrassed. ‘I was just reading him a story and he suddenly grabbed my breast. Then he tried to put his hand up my skirt and kiss me on the lips.’
    ‘Dear me!’ I said, appalled. I’ll talk to him now.’ Paula knew it was no good me simply telling off Reece, because he had seen nothing wrong in his lewd behaviour and therefore wouldn’t know what he was being told off for. If he had come from a home environment where it had been the norm for people to grope each other, then he was probably copying what he had seen without any moral judgement or principle.
    I desperately needed more information on Reece’s background to know what exactly I was dealing with in terms of the level of abuse at home. No one had phoned from the social services on Friday and when Jill had phoned she didn’t have any more information. I would phone her first thing on Monday and ask her to find out more. I wasn’t having my family abused because of simple lack of information. It is a sad fact that foster families are abused by the children they look after — physically, mentally and, even as had just happened to Paula, sexually. However, I could minimize the risk by knowing more, and it was a sign of how mature my family had become with fostering and having to deal with this type of behaviour that Paula wasn’t more distressed by the incident.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ I said to her, blaming myself for not being more vigilant. ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ I gave her a hug.
    ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I know it’s difficult. He didn’t think he was doing anything wrong, Mum.’
    ‘I know, but he is going to start to learn, and now.’
    Paula went upstairs to her room while I returned to the living room. Reece was still sitting on the sofa and looking at the book, not zooming around as he normally did if we left him alone for a minute, so that I wondered if he was subdued because part of him knew what he had done was wrong and he was expecting to be told off. How naive I was!
    ‘Isn’t she gonna read the story?’ Reece asked as I went over and sat beside him on the sofa.
    ‘No, Paula isn’t going to read. She is upset and I have to tell you why.’
    He didn’t look up but turned the page of the book. I took it from him and, closing it, set it to one side. I wanted his full attention.
    ‘Reece,’ I said, searching for eye contact. ‘I need to talk to you about how you just touched Paula. It wasn’t nice and little boys don’t do that.’
    He glanced up at me and shrugged. ‘I wanted to feel her cunt. Ain’t nothing wrong in that.’
    I looked at him, and felt sickened