Mummy Told Me Not to Tell (19 page)

I followed as Mrs Morrison and Reece went up a flight of stairs and to a door on the left labelled ‘staff room’. She opened the door for me and then stood aside with Reece. ‘Help yourself to tea or coffee,’ she said. ‘Some of the staff will be in shortly. Betty, our secretary, wants to see you with some forms to sign, and also about dinner money. Betty was off sick yesterday when you visited.’

‘Thank you.’ I said to Mrs Morrison; then, before going into the staff room, I gave Reece a big hug and kissed his forehead. ‘You have a lovely day and I’ll see
you at three twenty.’ The head had asked that I didn’t see Reece in the building, only that I was present as a precautionary measure in case there was a problem.

He returned my hug and then asked quite sensibly, ‘What do I do with my coat and PE bag?’

‘We will do that first,’ Mrs Morrison said. ‘I’ll show you where your peg is in the cloakroom.’

I hugged him again; then as they turned and headed back towards the stairs, I went into the empty staff room. I didn’t want a drink — I’d just had breakfast — so I sat in one of the armchairs and looked around. Carpeted in dark beige, with magnolia walls, the room was similar in its furnishings to other primary school staff rooms I’d been in. A dozen or more chairs of various shapes and sizes surrounded two long low coffee tables. There were two higher tables with computers, and lots of cupboards and work areas which were littered with piles of books and papers. There was a stainless-steel sink at one end, and beside that was a kettle with a jar of coffee and a box of tea bags. On the wall above hung a dozen or more mugs on a wooden rack. The room was light and airy, and patterned curtains hung at the windows. Staff meetings would presumably take place here, and the staff would seek respite from the school at break and lunchtimes here. I now realized that I should have brought a book with me to read, for as I understood it I would be remaining here until the end of the morning. I looked around for something to read, but there was nothing beyond piles of exercise books and paperwork that clearly belonged to individual members of staff.

The door opened and a young woman in black trousers and a light grey blouse came in.

‘Mrs Glass? I’m Annette Broom, Reece’s teacher. Nice to meet you.’

‘And you.’ We shook hands. She was in her mid-twenties, tall, with long shiny black hair, and seemed very pleasant and efficient.

‘I have just met Reece briefly,’ she said sitting in the chair next to mine. ‘I will see him again when he comes into the class. Mrs Morrison is showing him around now. He’s hung his coat on his peg. He seems fine. I’ve read his statement of special educational needs. We haven’t heard from his social worker yet, but from what the head has told me Reece has settled with you and all the behaviour described in the statement is behind him.’

‘Absolutely,’ I confirmed. ‘It’s Reece’s learning I’m more concerned with now. I’ve been trying to teach him a bit at home, but he is way behind.’

‘Yes, I can see from his statement. I’ll probably test him when he’s settled in to see exactly what stage he is at. I have another child in the class, Troy, who is special needs. He hasn’t had Reece’s behavioural problems, but I would think that they are about the same stage academically. I have put a place next to Troy for Reece, at the same table in the classroom, so they will be company for each other.’

‘Oh, that’s lovely,’ I said. ‘Thank you so much. Reece hasn’t got many friends.’

She smiled. ‘It will be good for Troy too. He has difficulty making friends. Their work will be differentiated from that of the rest of the class, allowing for their
needs, while still following the national curriculum.’ I was really impressed for, despite the short notice of Reece’s arrival, Annette Broom had clearly put a lot of thought and effort in integrating Reece back into school and making him feel welcome.

‘Do tell me what I can do to help him with his learning at home,’ I said. ‘I’m sure he can make real improvement now. He wants to learn, and was looking forward to coming to school.’

She nodded. ‘Yes, the head said. I’ll be starting him on a basic reading scheme. We use the Oxford Reading Tree scheme. Are you familiar with it?’ I nodded. ‘I’ll start Reece at level one to give him confidence and then he can go at his own pace.’

‘Terrific,’ I said. ‘Thank you so much for all you are doing.’

‘You’re welcome.’ She smiled. ‘I need to go now, as I’m on playground duty this morning, but I’ll catch up with you later. Help yourself to tea or coffee.’

‘Thanks. I’m fine for now.’

As Annette Broom left the staff room another woman came in.

‘I’m Betty Smith, the school secretary and general dogsbody,’ she said, smiling and coming over. ‘I’ve got some paperwork for you.’

She sat in the chair that Miss Broom had just vacated and began working through the papers on her lap. The first was Reece’s school registration form, which needed all his details and the signature of his parent, together with consent forms that would allow him to do PE and go on any school outing.

‘I’m going to have to get Reece’s social worker to sign these,’ I said. ‘As his carer, I’m not allowed to, as I don’t have legal parental responsibility for him.’ This was the case with most forms that required the parent’s signature: the local authority acting
in loco parentis
— in place of the parent — had to give the necessary permission, which in practice meant the child’s social worker. ‘Can I take these with me? Then I can get him to sign them while I wait.’

‘Sure,’ she said. I held these forms on my lap as Betty passed me the next two sheets of paper. ‘Here is a copy of our term’s dates,’ she said, ‘and also the school’s policy.’

‘Thank you.’ I glanced at the top sheet. ‘So you break up next Wednesday for Easter?’

‘Yes, Easter is early this year, so it’s been a short term for us.’

‘That will be nice for Reece. He’ll have chance to settle in, and then have a break before the long summer term.’

She nodded, and handed me another form. ‘I take it Reece is having school dinners?’

‘Yes, please.’

‘Can you fill in that tear-off slip for me now, please? The dinner money is £2.00 a day, which to the end of term is £14.00.’ This was a form I could fill in so, taking the pen she offered me, I filled in Reece’s name, and then signed the slip that said I agreed to pay in advance for his school dinner. I handed it back to the secretary, and then delved into my handbag for my purse and gave her the £14.00.

‘Thank you,’ she said. Then she passed me yet another form. ‘This is for his dinner money for next term. You can pay weekly, half-termly or termly. It is up to you.’ I looked at the list of amounts payable. It was a long term and therefore expensive. ‘I’ll pay half-termly,’ I said. ‘Would you like a cheque now?’

‘That would be helpful, yes, please.’

I delved into my bag again and pulled out my chequebook. I wrote a cheque for £70.00, tore it off and passed it to her.

‘Thanks. And this is a copy of the school’s prospectus,’ she said, passing me the last document. ‘I don’t suppose the head remembered to give you one yesterday.’

‘No. Thank you very much.’

‘You’re welcome.’ She stood. ‘Well, let’s hope Reece settles in, for all our sakes.’

I looked at her and smiled. ‘He will,’ I said, and I thought that clearly Reece’s reputation had preceded him, for even the school secretary who had been off sick yesterday seemed to be aware of his past.

As Betty left the staff room, a procession of teachers began entering, all saying hello and introducing themselves before leaving with a mug of coffee each. At 8.50 the bell sounded and I was alone again in the staff room. Now I had some reading material, and I began looking through the prospectus to gain a better idea of the school. In fact I read it from cover to cover before the staff room door opened again at 9.45 and the headmaster, Mr Fitzgerald, came in.

‘Everything is all right so far,’ he said, remaining by the door. ‘Reece is with Mrs Morrison in his classroom now. If he is still all right by lunch, then you can go.’

‘Fine,’ I said. Although I had warmed somewhat to Mr Fitzgerald, having appreciated that his initial reaction was based on seeing Reece’s statement and not knowing of his subsequent improvement, I still found his manner over-formal and cool. ‘Help yourself to coffee,’ he said stiffly before leaving. I did this time. Then I returned to my chair and began filling in Reece’s registration forms, apart from the one that would require Jamey Hogg’s signature.

I thought that, assuming I was dismissed at twelve noon, I could phone Jamey as soon as I got home and arrange to take the forms to him for signing. I also wanted to discuss with him the possibility of taking Reece on a week’s holiday at Easter. I hadn’t booked anything yet, but I thought it would be nice for the girls, Reece and me to have a short break at the coast. My son, Adrian, had already said he wouldn’t be coming home from university for Easter — he had decided to spend two weeks with his mates in Spain. It was the first time he hadn’t come home for the holidays, but I recognized that at twenty he had his own life to lead, although I still missed him.

At 10.45 the bell rang for morning break and the staff room filled again with teachers making coffee and generally chatting. Annette Broom took the opportunity to update me on what Reece had been doing so far — some number work and science, where he had had
the same work sheet as Troy. Mrs Morrison had sat between them, helping them both.

‘No problems?’ I asked.

‘No, although we have to keep reminding him to talk more quietly. It’s a long time since he’s been in a classroom and he’s obviously excited. We’re doing PE later. Has he got his PE kit?’

‘Yes. He had it with him this morning.’

‘Mrs Morrison will have put it on his coat peg. So I’ll see you at the end of morning lessons then.’ Annette Broom smiled and left to talk to a colleague. Ten minutes later the bell sounded and the staff room cleared again. It was now eleven o’clock and I flicked through the papers Mrs Morrison had given me and found that the morning finished at twelve noon. I took my mobile, which I had left on silent, from my bag, and checked the messages. There was a text from Nicola saying, ‘Good luck. He’ll be fine!’, which was very sweet of her. I texted back: ‘Thanks. He is!’

With the staff room empty, and warm, I rested my head back in the armchair and could easily have dozed off. As much as Reece had been excited about his first day at his new school, I had been excited for him and also apprehensive. Now he was here and settling in, I could relax. I felt my eyes begin to close, but then caught myself and sat upright. I could hardly be found asleep in the staff room if anyone came in. I made myself another coffee, found the staff toilet, and then wandered around the staff room looking at the notice boards, and out of the window to the playground.

A class was in the playground for PE, running around and throwing small beanbags to each other. As I looked I saw Annette Broom, and then further over Mrs Morrison with Reece. They were standing completely separately from the rest of the class, throwing a plastic football back and forth. Reece was dropping it more times than he was catching it, and I saw from his clumsy attempts just how uncoordinated he was. The reason he was doing this activity separately from the rest of the class was obvious: he could never have coordinated his movements enough to have thrown and caught the hand-sized beanbags while running at the same time. I was taken aback by seeing him now compared to his peer group. It was a stark comparison, emphasizing how much catching up Reece had to do in all things before he came anywhere near the level he should be at. I was sad for him, for I would have loved to see him completely integrated in his class. I vowed to continue to do everything possible to help him to fulfil his potential.

At midday the bell went and the staff room filled again. Mr Fitzgerald appeared and sat in the chair next to me.

‘I expect you want to go now,’ he said.

‘Well, yes, if Reece’s OK.’

He hesitated. ‘He is, but he became a bit overexcited after PE. I understand from Annette Broom that he has settled down again now.’ I didn’t think that overexcitement was too big a crime and I hoped the head wasn’t going to view any excitement on Reece’s part as a sign of impending trouble. ‘You go then,’ he added. ‘We have your mobile number if we need you.’

Clearly Mr Fitzgerald was still expecting problems, but I supposed that was natural, given Reece’s school history.

‘Is he having lunch now?’ I asked.

‘Yes. Mrs Morrison is with him.’

‘All right,’ I said. ‘I will return at three twenty then. Do I wait in the playground?’

He thought for a moment. ‘No, come into reception and I’ll tell Mrs Morrison to bring Reece to you there. She can also tell you how he has been. I think Annette was hoping to see you, but she is tied up at present.’

‘Thank you.’ I said goodbye and made my way down the flight of stairs, along the corridor and into reception, where I let myself out. The playground was empty; presumably all the children were having their dinner in the canteen, wherever that was. And I thought that at some point I would like to be shown around the building so that I would have a better understanding of what Reece was telling me when he described his day at school.

I arrived home at 12.30, had a sandwich lunch and then phoned the social worker. He wasn’t at his desk, so I left a message with a colleague, asking for him to phone back. He didn’t. So at 2.30 I phoned again and Jamey answered.

‘Hello, Jamey, it’s Cathy, Reece’s carer.’

‘Hi, Cathy,’ he said in his soft tranquil voice.

‘I left a message earlier. Did you get it?’

‘Yes. Is everything all right?’

‘Reece started school today.’

‘Good. Is he enjoying it?’

‘Yes, I think so. Have you read his education statement?’ I asked.

‘No. I haven’t had a chance. I’ve been so busy with another case.’ Which seemed to be Jamey’s refrain and I wondered now, as I had before, what exactly this ‘other case’ was that merited so much time and distracted him from the time he should be putting into Reece’s case.