Keeping Sam

by Joanne Phillips

  ‘Your parents appear to have cared for him very well, Kate.’

  She watched Elizabeth, absorbed in her notes again. ‘You know, there’s something that’s been bothering me. And I think I need to get it off my chest.’

  ‘Shoot,’ Elizabeth said, leaning back and smiling. The taxi went over a bump and Kate’s crutch clattered to the floor.

  ‘Okay, I’m Sam’s parent – not his only parent, obviously, but his dad has been out of the picture for a while.’

  ‘Yes, so I understand.’

  Kate glanced across at the social worker, who was still smiling impassively.

  ‘Well, why didn’t someone bring Sam to see his mother? Fine, you couldn’t bring him right away, I understand that. I get it that the doctors were concerned for a while about brain damage, but I’ve been fine for weeks now. I mean, weeks and weeks. All I’ve been doing is waiting, waiting for Sam and waiting for my body to get strong enough to let me walk properly so I could leave the hospital. And …’

  She tailed off, aware that her voice was rising, her heart rate rising with it. ‘I’d like,’ she said shakily, ‘to know why someone – you or Daniel or whoever had the authority – didn’t simply collect Sam from my parents and bring him to see his mother. That’s all.’

  ‘Sure,’ Elizabeth said briskly. ‘Okay, well, the fact is, I guess we just didn’t think it was necessary to pluck a nineteen-month-old child from the care of his grandparents, who clearly dote on him, and take him all the way to Manchester to be transferred to the care of someone who hadn’t yet been discharged from hospital after a serious head injury and concussion – someone who was reported to be suffering from amnesia, couldn’t care for herself independently, and didn’t have anywhere to live. We considered that would not be in the best interests of the child.’

  ‘Best interests … Hold on, I’m his mother. This “someone” you keep talking about is his mother. What about my best interests? What about –’

  ‘Kate.’ Elizabeth held out her hands, palms together. Her tone was authoritative, although still gentle. ‘With all due respect, this isn’t about you. This is about Sam.’

  Kate jerked her head away. She swallowed hard, surreptitiously wiping a tear from her cheek. ‘I know,’ she said, ‘that this is about Sam. All I care about is Sam. It’s just ... I’ve been so worried.’

  ‘Well, then,’ Elizabeth said, the matter-of-fact timbre firmly back in place, ‘now we’ve got that out of the way, here’s what I thought we’d do. We’ll go and see Sam first – your parents are expecting us – and then I’ll take you to your new lodgings. It’s a nice house, right here in Corrin Cove. The landlady is a friend of my sister. There are two rooms, one for you and one for Sam. It’ll be perfectly adequate until we get you sorted with something more permanent.’

  ‘Is it furnished?’ Kate said, trying to imagine the sheer scale of what she had to do to make a home now for herself and her son.

  ‘It is. We thought Sam could come for visits first, maybe stay overnight, and you can get to know what kinds of toys he likes, what kinds of things he’s into.’

  Kate looked at the woman in astonishment. ‘Come for visits? He won’t need to visit me, he’ll be living with me.’ A hole began to form inside Kate’s stomach, an empty, nervous space that sensed only the worst. ‘Are you saying he won’t be coming home with me today? Is that what you’re saying?’

  Elizabeth said nothing. Kate wondered what her mother had told this woman about her wayward daughter. It was true she’d found it hard to cope with Sam when he was tiny and colicky, and all those nights without sleep had worn her down, making her feel as though she was disappearing into a maelstrom of confusion. How her mother had loved being superior then, when Kate had called out of the blue and asked for help. How she’d gloated.

  The taxi driver slid back his privacy panel and called out for directions.

  ‘It’s just down there,’ Elizabeth instructed, pointing to a narrow track, part hidden by a yew hedge. She bent to pick up Kate’s crutch, a sheet of fair hair hiding her impenetrable face. Before Kate could ask any more questions, the social worker was out of the taxi and standing on the kerb, hunting in her purse for change.

  Kate gripped her crutch and looked out of the window, out into another time. Woodland Cottage sat on the outskirts of the seaside town of Corrin Cove, its white-rendered walls and grey slate roof stark against the year-round emerald lawns and trees. Kate had spent her childhood here, playing in the woods behind the house, building dens and tree houses, places to escape to. When she left, she had vowed never to return.

  ‘Okay,’ Elizabeth said, hoisting Kate’s bag onto her shoulder. ‘Are you ready to see your son?’

  Chapter 3

  He was an angel. An angel in short blue trousers and a Postman Pat T-shirt. Kate gazed at him, drinking him in, unable to take her eyes off him for a second. She had expected to feel more pain than this, to feel the full weight of everything she’d missed out on, but right now all she felt was joy. Pure, beautiful joy.

  Kate sat on the floor, leaning over her son as far as she could, drinking in his scent. The sun streaked through the glass, lighting up his thick blonde hair, his scalp covered completely now, his head round and solid. He was sitting upright, chunky legs stuck out to the sides, stacking cups. ‘That one,’ he said, pointing with a chubby finger to the next in the sequence. Kate passed him the yellow cup wordlessly. It was, she realised with a jolt, the first time she’d ever heard him speak.

  His face showed an almost comical expression of concentration as he placed the cup on top of the stack, then he looked up in delight, grinning, waiting for approval.

  ‘Oh, well done!’ exclaimed Kate. ‘Well done.’

  She caught her breath. She was having a conversation with her son. It was almost too momentous to take in.

  His hair was cut short, close to his head, but instead of making him look a little thuggish, like it could on some boys his age, on Sam it was angelic. He gave off a solid, contented aura, impossible to describe, and all Kate wanted was to pick him up again and crush him to her chest, as she had the second he’d toddled into the room, clutching his grandmother’s hand at the sight of two strangers. That was what her mother had called her. A stranger.

  ‘You’ll frighten him,’ Barbara had said, her arms folded, watching Kate and Sam through wary eyes. ‘Give him a bit of space. He’s not good with strangers.’

  ‘Kate’s hardly a stranger.’ Elizabeth’s gentle rebuke had fallen on deaf ears. Barbara stayed on the edges of the sun room; Kate’s father was nowhere to be seen.

  Sam was murmuring under his breath now, and he pushed the stacking cups over, reaching instead for a box of brightly coloured bricks. ‘I need blue ones,’ he insisted solemnly, gazing up at Kate. She nodded, awestruck.

  ‘He speaks really well,’ she said, glancing up at her mother. ‘For his age, I mean.’

  Barbara shrugged. ‘You did too, at that age.’

  ‘When did he …’ Kate didn’t know where to start. When did he walk, run, climb, eat his first ice cream, fall over for the first time? Has he had all his jabs and vaccinations, is he healthy, does he ever have nightmares …?

  Does he ever ask about me?

  Her unspoken questions hung in the air. Elizabeth coughed and pulled her notebook out of her briefcase again. She turned to a page with a yellow sticky note attached to the top.

  ‘Mrs Steiner,’ she said, ‘I think Kate has a few questions for you, and it might be an idea for her to ask them while I’m here.’

  Kate wondered who Elizabeth was trying to protect: her or her mother. Then she realised that the social worker didn’t care a jot about either of them. She was only interested in Sam.

  ‘I’d like to know why you didn’t visit me in the hospital,’ Kate said softly. Sam regarded her with clear, calm eyes. Kate smiled at him, trying to send him all the love she had in her heart. He turned away, disinterested.

  There was a pause, then Elizabet
h spoke up. ‘Kate would like to know why you didn’t go and–’

  ‘I heard her,’ Barbara interrupted. ‘There’s no need for her to talk to the floor like a child.’

  ‘Maybe you could just tell her,’ Elizabeth suggested. ‘Explain your reasons. I’m sure Kate will understand once she hears them in your own words.’

  Kate rolled a ball along the floor to Sam, wishing the two of them could go somewhere else and be alone together.

  ‘Well, I did come,’ Barbara said. ‘David and I came every day for the first few weeks. We had no idea what would happen, to Kate or to Samuel. We visited her in the hospital – I brought her some things from the flat, and we brought Samuel to see her.’

  ‘And then,’ Elizabeth prompted.

  ‘The doctors told us it was very unlikely she’d wake up from the coma. They said she might be brain damaged, or worse. We were looking after Sam with us in a hotel, but it wasn’t ideal. So we made the decision to come back here. It was for the best.’ Barbara voice rose with a hint of defensiveness that made Kate look up from the floor. Her mother was talking to Elizabeth; it was as though Kate didn’t exist. Kate bit her lip, taking her attention away from Sam with extreme reluctance.

  ‘But when you heard that I had woken up, when you found out I was going to be alright, why didn’t you visit again then? You could have phoned or written. Weren’t you happy to hear that I was okay?’

  ‘Of course I was.’ For a moment, Kate saw a flash of pain cross her mother’s face, but seconds later it was gone. ‘It was hard for us, seeing you lying there in the hospital. You can’t imagine. I’m glad – more than glad – to see you so recovered now, to see you well again.’

  Barbara’s gaze slid to Kate’s crutch, which was propped up against the side of the sofa, then she turned to face Elizabeth. ‘Kate and her father and I had been estranged for many years,’ she explained. ‘I had seen Kate briefly when Sam was three months old, but prior to that we’d had no relationship for a long time. I had reconciled myself to the fact that our daughter did not want us in her life.’

  ‘Briefly?’ Kate echoed in astonishment. ‘Mum, you came and stayed with Sam and me for over a month. You fed him at night, changed him, took him out in his pram. We had … we had meals together, walks together. I thought it was okay between us, I thought–’

  ‘Which was exactly why,’ Barbara continued, once again addressing Elizabeth, ‘it seemed appropriate for David and I to look after the boy when his mother was no longer able to.’

  ‘I see.’ Elizabeth paused, then wrote something in her notebook. She glanced up and looked directly at Kate. There was something in her expression Kate didn’t like at all. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought it was pity.

  ‘Mrs Steiner,’ Elizabeth said, ‘perhaps you would like to explain to your daughter the steps you took to safeguard Sam’s future.’ Her tone was wary, guarded. Kate looked at her mother in surprise.

  ‘What steps?’ A small hand touched her leg, and she glanced down and saw her son trying to climb onto her lap. She reached for him and he came readily, fitting into her arms, still holding two of his bricks in chubby fingers.

  ‘Blue,’ he said. Kate smiled and kissed his head.

  ‘Yes,’ she told him. ‘Blue. Very good.’

  Barbara was watching them, her expression unreadable. Kate could sense that the atmosphere between them was beginning to make even Elizabeth uncomfortable, although Kate imagined the woman had been in far worse situations than this. She smiled to herself grimly. Welcome to a Steiner family reunion. We all love each other here.

  Taking strength from her son’s tacit approval, Kate decided to do her best to see things from her mother’s point of view. She had done well by Sam; she only had his best interests at heart. There was a long way to go, there were still many questions to answer, but today was not the day to air old grievances.

  ‘What steps have you taken, Mum?’ Kate asked again, but this time she smiled warmly, hugging Sam to her chest.

  Her mother registered the tiniest sign of discomfort. She smoothed her hands down the sides of her immaculately cut skirt, and crossed her trim ankles neatly.

  ‘As I said earlier, we – your father and I – were under the impression you very likely would not wake up from the coma, or indeed recover from the injuries you sustained. Therefore, we decided after having Sam with us for six months that we would make it official.’

  ‘Official?’ Kate held Sam tight against her body. He fitted the bricks together, then unclamped them. Together, apart. He giggled, then held them up to show to Kate. She kissed his cheek, never taking her eyes from her mother’s face.

  ‘Official, yes. So that he would be protected.’ As Barbara spoke, she finally met Kate’s gaze. Her eyes were cold, her expression unflinching.

  Kate felt a chill settle over her, prickling her scalp, raising goose bumps on her arms. The warmth from Sam’s little body did nothing to counter it. He began to wriggle, good-naturedly pushing himself out of her arms before toddling away with a wide-legged gait to the toy box across the room. Kate sat on the cold tiles and stared up at the two women who looked down at her, one full of sympathy, the other a study in antipathy. Her leg had gone to sleep, and now she was unable to reach her crutch or find the strength to push herself up from the floor.

  Elizabeth spoke softly. ‘Your parents applied for Special Guardianship, Kate. The court awarded it three months ago. They have parental responsibility for Sam now, too. I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner. I thought–’ she paused and glanced at Barbara, whose expression was still carved from stone. ‘I thought it might have been better for your mother to explain it. It seems I was quite wrong.’

  ‘But who,’ said Kate, her voice rasping in her throat, ‘who did you need to protect him from?’

  Yet even as she said the words, she knew. Her mother’s letter, the oblique references to Kate’s lifestyle and background, the tone of judgment, as though Kate herself were responsible for the attack, the coma, everything. She knew. Her parents were trying to protect Sam from his own mother.

  And if that were the case, there must be a reason.

  Just how much else had her amnesia made her forget?

  ***

  They sat on the promenade, on a concrete bench, with seagulls shouting and squawking around them. The sound of children playing in the breakers on the shoreline was almost too much for Kate to bear. And yet at the same time it was comforting. Elizabeth sat silently by her side, thumbing through her phone, occasionally tapping out a message, or writing something in her notepad. The sun was relentless; it was an all-or-nothing kind of summer this year. Kate had been protected in hospital, only going outside into the atrium once a day for fresh air. Here, exposed to the sea air and the brash August climate in Corrin Cove, Kate felt more vulnerable than ever.

  ‘They found drugs in your flat,’ Elizabeth said with a sigh. ‘It was in the police report. To be honest, I thought you knew. After you’d gone in the ambulance, the police dusted for prints, tried to work out if anything had been taken, the usual stuff. They found evidence of drug use, and a large quantity of cannabis. Plenty of people take recreational drugs, Kate. But I guess your parents … Well, they’re obviously kind of judgmental.’

  Kate shook her head, incredulous. ‘But – I don’t take drugs. I mean, I did, once. A long time ago. It was Evan, Sam’s dad. He lived that kind of lifestyle, not me, although I guess I did get drawn into it at one time. I’m not making excuses but … I hadn’t taken anything for months before I got pregnant with Sam, Elizabeth, and certainly not after! For goodness sake, what do you take me for?’

  Elizabeth shrugged. ‘It’s no skin off my nose what you did. Like I said, I’m just here to make sure Sam’s okay.’

  ‘So you think I was a bad parent too, is that it? That’s clearly what my mother thinks, and that’s why she’s done this. It all makes sense now, doesn’t it?’

  The relentless questions of the policewoman who visited
her in hospital, who, now Kate came to think about it, had always had a noticeable edge of suspicion and disapproval in her face. Daniel’s reluctance to share information with her; the vagueness of the doctors and the rest of the staff; her mother’s letter – the coldness in her eyes. They all thought she was a druggie. It was completely, entirely crazy.

  ‘And what, they think that was what the attack was about? A drug deal gone wrong?’

  Elizabeth looked out towards the horizon. Her sunglasses were no longer holding back her hair, and Kate couldn’t see her eyes. ‘Something like that.’

  ‘They basically think I brought this on myself?’

  ‘I can’t tell you what the police think, Kate. And I probably shouldn’t be discussing with you what was in the report they released to us. But they didn’t press charges, so they can’t have thought your involvement overtly criminal.’

  ‘My involvement? I was hit over the head and knocked unconscious! I was unconscious for nearly ten months. How could they have pressed charges when I was in a coma?’

  Elizabeth gave a sound that was halfway between a sigh and a laugh. ‘My dear, I’ve seen cases where the police have arrested someone within minutes of them coming round after a car crash where the rest of their family died. You don’t know the half of it.’

  Kate decided she didn’t want to. She clasped her hands together and turned to face Elizabeth, blinking against a sudden burst of sea air that brought the taste of sand to her lips.

  ‘Listen. I don’t care what they think. I know the truth, and I’m telling you now that I never touched drugs, or even took one single alcoholic drink, all the time I was caring for Sam. My father is an alcoholic, did you know that? He’s a hypocrite, and she protects him – neither one of them is fit to look after my son, I don’t care what your special order says. But I’m here on my own now, I have no one, no family, no friends, just a boy who doesn’t even know who I am. If I’m going to get through this I need to know that at least one person believes the truth. Do you think you could be that person?’