Elizabeth reached up and took off her sunglasses. Her eyes were green in the slanted light, and measuring. She regarded Kate for a second or two, then she replaced the glasses and looked back out to sea. ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘I believe you. No problem.’
Chapter 4
Barbara Steiner took a glass jar down from the top shelf and removed two tea bags from it. These she flung into the waiting cups, tapping her nails on the shiny worktop while the kettle boiled ferociously. Her husband stood three feet behind her. She could sense him although he’d yet to speak.
The argument had started, like they so often seemed to these days, during breakfast. She knew it was partly her fault – waiting until this morning to tell him about their daughter’s visit had been unfair. He had reacted exactly as she’d predicted, proving she’d been right not to tell him any earlier.
‘I should have been here,’ he had thundered, throwing his paper down onto the polished table as he pushed himself to his feet. ‘I can’t believe you arranged it all behind my back.’
‘It wasn’t intentional,’ Barbara had countered. ‘She came with that social worker – I didn’t have much say over the date. And you always play golf on Fridays. I didn’t think you’d want your routine to be disrupted.’
He stood behind her now, but Barbara didn’t turn around. Let him be the first one to speak. It had been a long time since he’d lost his temper like that. So long she’d almost forgotten. The kettle clicked off. She poured water into the cups, then stood and watched the teabags steeping, not wanting to cross the kitchen to get the milk, not wanting to move past her husband.
‘You know, I hardly recognised her yesterday,’ Barbara said. ‘I thought about the girl we raised, that sweet little girl, and then I thought about the last time we saw her, lying in hospital, dead to the world.’
‘I want to see her.’ David was standing closer now; she could feel his breath on her neck. ‘There are things I need to say.’
Barbara closed her eyes. ‘You realise that she wants to take Samuel away from us, don’t you? That’s what she’s here for, David. That’s all she’s here for. She hasn’t come to make things right, to say sorry for all the lies she told about you the day she left home. There were no signs of remorse, or regret, or sadness. Not for us, anyway.’
She turned to him. His skin was mottled red, with white patches around his mouth. Anger. Or something else. She hoped it was anger.
‘You do remember, don’t you?’ she pressed. ‘You remember the lies she told? How much she hurt you? Hurt us?’
‘Stop it. I don’t want to rake over old ground anymore. The next time Kate visits, I want to be here. Understand?’ He picked up his cup and poured the contents into the sink. Then he grabbed his keys from the counter and headed for the door.
‘David – wait.’ She half ran after him, catching his sleeve as he pulled on his jacket. ‘Where are you going?’
‘Out.’
‘She won’t want to see you. She hates you.’
Her hand flew up to her mouth involuntarily, and she took a step away from him. But David only regarded her sadly.
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ he said, ‘but it won’t work.’
She squared her shoulders. ‘What am I thinking?’
‘Barbara, you brought the boy here, it was your decision and I supported you in it. But now our daughter is well again and she is here, on our own doorstep, and you can’t ... I won’t … You should give Sam back to her. Like you said, he’s her son.’
‘Give him back? Are you mad?’ Barbara paled. She steadied herself against a console table. ‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m saying that we were only ever looking after him until she got better, and now she’s better.’
‘He’s not a toy we borrowed, David! He’s a little boy.’ Her voice was edging close to hysteria; her husband stopped her with a frown, but then he swallowed and looked away. She noticed his eyes, the pinkness around them. Wavery, not quite focused. She should stop him driving, but she knew from experience it would only lead to another row. She didn’t have the energy for another row.
Barbara glared at her husband’s departing back with something close to hatred. Give Samuel back to Kate? How could he even suggest such a thing? She closed the door softly behind him, then held her hands over her eyes to cool them. No matter what happened, whatever her daughter said or did – whatever David said or did – no one would take Samuel away from her. She simply could not let that happen.
***
The woman was twenty minutes late. It simply wasn’t good enough, not when the appointment had been arranged for a specific time, and Barbara had had to arrange for a babysitter for Samuel. It was hot and sticky in the waiting room, but Barbara had worn her lightest linen shift dress, and had twisted her hair into a French pleat so it didn’t lie heavily on her neck. She tapped her fingers on the arm of the wooden chair. Was it so very difficult to keep to an appointment system? She supposed solicitors were very busy and important and constantly in demand, dealing as they must with all sorts of undesirables.
Her last visit had been no different. This was where she had sought advice six months ago, found out about the Special Guardianship Order. At least then they’d offered her a cup of tea. Today, nothing. She glanced at the collection of dog-eared magazines again. Pseudo celebrity gossip and “real life” stories to make your toes curl. No, thank you very much.
Finally her name was called and she walked through the double doors into Bridget Cohen’s office. This was more like it – wooden panelling, certificates on the walls, a nice view of the bay. The prosperity of her legal counsel calmed her: she was in safe hands now.
‘Mrs Steiner. How nice to see you again.’
Barbara sat down and shook her solicitor’s hand.
Bridget flicked through a manila file on her desk, then pulled out a sheet of paper and gave it a cursory glance. ‘Here we are. Samuel Steiner. And how is Samuel doing?’
Barbara hadn’t come all this way to indulge in small talk. ‘As I said on the phone, my daughter, Samuel’s mother, has … Well, she has recovered from her accident and appears to be quite fit and well, and now she wants to take her son back.’ Barbara paused and smoothed her palms along the length of her thighs. ‘I told her that we have an order from the court to look after the boy, so she can’t simply take him away. That is correct, is it not?’
The solicitor regarded Barbara steadily. ‘May I ask you a question, Mrs Steiner?’
Barbara nodded.
‘Why don’t you want Samuel to be with his natural mother?’
It was a simple enough question, but one Barbara was not prepared for. She stared at Bridget in alarm.
‘Why would you ask me that? We can provide a loving, stable home for him, which is exactly what he needs. He’s a happy boy, healthy and full of life. And what does it say in that file of yours? You were the one who showed me the police report. Kate was a drug addict before Samuel was born, and what they found in her flat proved that she’d gone back to her old habits. Do you think I’m just going to hand him over and say, “There you go, have a nice life”? We haven’t been looking after the boy for the weekend – it’s been almost a year!’
‘Presumably she has missed her son rather a lot in that case,’ Bridget said, clearly nonplussed by Barbara’s outburst. She closed the file and threaded her hands together. ‘Mrs Steiner, do you any have reason to suspect that your daughter is still involved with her former habits now, today?’
What an unusual way to put it. Barbara shrugged. How could she know for sure? She felt her face heating up as she realised she hadn’t even considered where Kate might be staying in Corrin Cove, or who she might be staying with. Probably that frightful social worker thought Barbara was the worst kind of mother possible for not welcoming her daughter into her home with open arms.
‘If your daughter decides to apply for a variation of the order, the case will go to court,’ Bridget continued. ‘In the majo
rity of these cases, the court will naturally consider that a child’s rightful place is with its mother. It would be up to any interested party to prove otherwise, but the proof would have to be compelling.’
Barbara digested these words. She couldn’t help noticing that the other woman’s nails were bitten and the varnish chipped. This somewhat diminished the authority of the wooden panelling and the framed certificates on the walls.
‘So what you’re saying is, I must prove that my daughter is an unfit mother? That it would be dangerous to let her have Samuel back?’
Bridget frowned and shook her head. ‘No, Mrs Steiner, I’m not suggesting that at all, and I am not advising that as a course of action. It would be incredibly painful for all involved, I’m sure. How could you and your daughter have a relationship after that? Samuel must lose either his mother or his grandparents. Defending a contested guardianship order is not a decision to be taken lightly. My advice is that you come to terms with her amicably, maybe share Samuel’s care for a while, until she gets back on her feet. ’
‘Thank you for your advice,’ Barbara said stiffly. ‘But what I want are facts. Can we keep Samuel or not?’
The solicitor sighed. ‘You can try,’ she said. ‘But unless you have a very good reason for believing Samuel would be unsafe with his own mother, I strongly advise against it.’
Barbara felt her jaw tightening. Come to terms? After everything Kate had said and done? After the risks her daughter had taken with Samuel’s health and wellbeing? She just couldn’t imagine how she could ever trust her again.
‘My advice, which is what you’re paying for, after all,’ Bridget said tiredly, ‘is to make it up with your daughter. That way she will still let you and your husband see Samuel so you won’t lose him completely. Don’t make an enemy of her, Mrs Steiner. In my experience, it just isn’t worth it.’
Barbara stepped out of the building into the bright sunlight and groped around in her bag for her sunglasses, realising with annoyance that she had left them at home. A group of teenagers pushed passed her, forcing her into the wall, and she opened her mouth to shout after them but closed it again quickly. Instead she made her way back to the car park where she sank into the safely of her pristine Nissan with a sigh of relief. Big towns made her nervous. She preferred to be at home, listening to Samuel chatting away while he played on the floor or at the kitchen table, watching the birds in the garden, just feeling time settle upon her like a blanket. Sometimes he was the only person she would see for days; David was out more often now he had retired than he had been when he worked.
Without the boy she’d have no one.
She started the engine and turned on the stereo. A nursery rhyme, volume set to deafening, blared out of the speakers. Barbara smiled and tipped back her head. She looked at the rear-view mirror, picturing Samuel’s cherubic little face gazing back at her, singing along to the words they both knew by heart. She missed his solid, brightening presence even when she had to pop into town without him, or while he took a nap in the daytime.
How could she survive a day without him permanently in her life?
She knew what she had to do. The meeting with the solicitor had not been entirely wasted. This was a game of wit and nerve, and she still had a couple of cards to play.
Chapter 5
The house was near the end of a long narrow street that climbed its way up from the promenade to the crest of Bow Hill. It was a house Kate had walked past many times during her early teenage years, hanging out with friends on the corner by the off-licence where Bow Hill met the Parade – a strip of down-at-heel shops offering bric-a-brac and sun hats and dubious grocery items to any intrepid holidaymakers who happened to make it up this far from the sea. The Parade was still there; Kate had walked to it for the past two mornings to buy rolls for breakfast, a tin of soup for lunch.
Marie, her landlady, came out to greet her as soon as Kate stepped in off the street. Kate imagined Marie waiting behind the door that led to her own private part of the house, listening, anticipating, gathering up her energy. She seemed to have no life or occupation of her own, seemed happy to spend hours trailing after Kate, chatting on in that inexhaustible way she had, her life story an open book. After only two days, Kate knew that Marie was divorced – bitterly, regretfully divorced – from a man she was now once again dating; she knew that Marie and her ex, known as Big Tony to his friends, had no children together, but that Tony had sired two boys with two different women during breaks from Marie. The exact nature of these breaks was constantly up for examination and negotiation, and seemed to be the source of most of their conflict: Tony maintaining that he had been free to do whatever he wished with whomever he liked; Marie convinced that she was under the impression they were still in fact together during many of his flings.
It was exhausting, but Kate didn’t mind. While Marie held forth, Kate could take herself out of her own mind, albeit briefly, and the pain dulled just a little.
But it never went away for long.
After Elizabeth had brought her here on Friday, Kate had sat in the room set aside for Sam and tried to conjure him back into her reality. The feel of his hair against her cheek; the smoothness of his skin. She had pictured him playing on the bobbly brown carpet, and sketched out his face on the back of her train ticket. She’d lain flat on her back and gazed at the ceiling until her eyes blurred.
Elizabeth had promised to be in touch soon to arrange Kate’s next visit with Sam. All weekend she had paced and fretted, desperate to go back to Woodland Cottage. Kate had no intention of staying away. She hadn’t come all this way to sit around and wait. Her main problem was how to get there. It was too far to walk – maybe not for an able-bodied person, but for Kate with her crutch it was out of the question. She had arrived in Corrin Cove with a small amount of cash – her bank balance, dormant for a year, told the story of how badly she’d been struggling before the break-in. When she finally located the number of a local taxi service, she was dismayed at the cost of even such a short journey. No matter. Seeing Sam was all that counted.
‘Kate, you’re up and about early,’ Marie said, wafting into the hall as Kate closed the front door behind her. ‘Any news yet?’
Of course, when someone confides in you so easily, there’s no way to hold back with your own story.
Kate shook her head. ‘I’m going over there today, regardless. I don’t care what anyone says.’
‘Quite right,’ Marie said briskly, slipping her hand under Kate’s elbow and walking her towards the narrow staircase that led to Kate’s rooms on the first floor, and another on the second. ‘Would you like me to come with you? A bit of moral support?’
‘Oh, no thank you,’ Kate said, alarmed. The thought of Marie, exotic with her hippy-style tunics and oversized wooden jewellery and dyed-black lacquered hair, sitting in her mother’s pristine, stuffy sun room filled her with dread. But then she felt guilty. Marie had shown her more care and humanity in two days than her mother had in thirty years. Still, Kate couldn’t imagine the two of them together, breathing the same air. She gave Marie’s hand a squeeze. ‘It’s sweet of you to offer, but this is something I need to do on my own.’
‘Of course you do.’ Marie released Kate on the first floor landing, holding on to the balustrade as though she might fall over without it. ‘Would you like me to ask Patrick to give you a lift? I’m sure he’d be happy to.’ Marie lowered her voice, her eyes trained on the ceiling. ‘I happen to know he’s a bit low this week. I think he might have a birthday looming.’ She grinned at Kate conspiratorially. ‘I’m going to bake him a cake.’
This seemed to be typical of Marie, Kate thought. Never mind that her other lodger might not want a fuss made, she would bake a cake regardless and downright make sure he enjoyed himself.
‘Have you met our Patrick yet?’ Marie asked, grinning. ‘He’s rather a dish.’
Kate shook her head. ‘I’d better go, I–’
‘I could introduce you now if you
like, I know he’s in. And I’m sure he’d be happy to give you a lift,’ Marie added, heading for the second floor.
‘Really, I wouldn’t want to bother him. Or you,’ Kate added with another weak smile, turning quickly to unlock her room.
Once inside she laid her crutch on the floor and leaned against the door, listening for the sound of Marie’s footsteps on the stairs. There was a pause, twenty seconds, no more, and then Marie began to descend, singing a pop song Kate didn’t recognise. A year of pop songs, news reports, movie releases and all kinds of trivia that were lost to her now. She hadn’t the time, or the inclination, to try and catch up.
It would be nice, Kate thought as she crossed the room, to have a friend like Marie. She imagined Marie to be the kind of friend who would keep you sane, even as she drove you crazy from time to time.
Her phone rang, loud and insistent. It was Elizabeth. ‘Kate, how are things going there?’
Straight in, no small talk. Kate liked that about her. ‘The rooms are fine,’ she said. ‘Except one of them is missing a small boy.’
‘Right.’ Elizabeth paused. Kate could hear other voices in the background; she pictured Elizabeth in a vast open space, with phones ringing, desks rammed together, lots of activity. Her offices were in St Austell, the main town just up the coast. ‘So, I spoke to your mother this morning. We’ve arranged another visit for Wednesday, two o’clock. Do you want me to come and pick you up or shall we meet there?’
‘Wednesday?’ Kate couldn’t keep the disappointment from her voice. ‘You’re kidding, right? I’m not waiting until Wednesday. That’s almost a week. Elizabeth, I miss my baby so much. I want to take care of him, to be there for him.’
‘I know, Kate.’ Elizabeth’s voice became muffled, as though she’d put her hand over the phone. Then she spoke again. ‘I’m posting the forms out to you today – you’ll need to sign them and get them back to me as soon as you can.’
Keeping Sam Page 3
