Kate nodded. An application to discharge the Special Guardianship Order. It sounded so official. ‘I’ll do that, don’t worry. But I’m not waiting until Wednesday to see Sam, Elizabeth. I just can’t do it.’
‘I thought you might say that. Kate, these people are your family – there’s nothing to stop you visiting them whenever you want to.’
‘And Sam is my son.’
‘Exactly. Just … go easy, okay? Believe me, cases like this that go to family court, things can very easily get out of hand.’
They talked about the arrangements Kate had made for her things to be sent down from Manchester, then Elizabeth said she had to go.
‘I’ll see you on Wednesday. Just try to hang on until then.’
Easy for her to say. ‘Elizabeth, can I just ask you one more thing? What reasons did my mother give for making me wait until Wednesday?’
Elizabeth sighed, impatient now. ‘She just said they were busy, they had plans. She said she’d promised him a trip to the beach.’
‘Well, I could meet them at the beach,’ Kate suggested, but Elizabeth was already saying goodbye.
Her mother had always accused her of being wilful, Kate thought as she stomped onto the landing ten minutes later. She was probably right. But wilful had its uses, and determination had certainly helped Kate get back on her feet faster than most people when her muscles were wasted and her body weak. She thrust her crutch out purposefully – right into the path of a tall man who was just that moment rounding the bottom of the stairs to the second floor.
‘Oh, my ... I’m so sorry,’ Kate said, her face already burning with embarrassment. The man shook his head and smiled, then bent to pick up her crutch. She registered broad shoulders, a strong back, casual clothes in muted colours, and thick brown hair that curled slightly over his ears.
‘No worries,’ told her. She noticed that his brown eyes were shaped like almonds, crinkling in at the corners. He smelt of the outdoors, of forests and the wide sky and summers spent digging around in the bare earth. Kate inhaled, momentarily lost.
‘Do you want this back?’ he asked her. He was holding out the crutch, still smiling.
‘Oh, yes. Of course. I only need it because I, erm, I had an accident. I hardly need it at all, really, to be honest.’
‘Did you break your leg or something?’ he enquired, glancing down at her legs.
Kate reddened, suddenly aware of her unfashionable shorts showing too much pale skin and of her worn-down, grubby sandals. ‘No. I was ...’ She swallowed and hoisted her bag higher over her shoulder. ‘It’s kind of complicated.’
‘Okay.’ He nodded, then held out his hand. ‘I’m Patrick. I live on the floor above.’
‘Kate,’ she said, shaking his hand. His palm was warm and dry, and the contact sent a jolt of heat through her forearm.
‘Nice to meet you, Kate,’ he said softly. ‘See you around, I’m sure.’
‘I hope so,’ Kate whispered as he carried on down the stairs. She knew he hadn’t heard her, but when she turned to follow him, she found herself holding onto the balustrade for support, just as Marie had done earlier.
Chapter 6
They were easy to spot. Kate’s mother stood out from the others on the beach: not a pre-school mummy or a holiday maker; not a groovy granny or childminder or an office worker on a lunchtime break. Alongside the young mums with their toddlers and buckets and spades and picnics and brightly coloured beach towels she looked old and careworn, despite the expensive clothes and the perfectly styled hair. Or maybe because of it.
Kate picked her way across the sand towards them, trying to arrange her face into a surprised expression. Her mother had set up camp with a large parasol for Sam to play under, while she herself sat on a fold-out chair, reading a book, her back straight, ankles crossed. Sam looked adorable in a pink sun hat, and Kate had to bite her lip to stop herself from shouting out to him from all the way across the promenade.
As soon as she was close enough to have noticed them naturally, she began to wave.
‘Hey, there,’ she called brightly. ‘What a coincidence!’
Sam looked up from his sandcastle, squinting in the harsh light. She reached his side and squatted down beside him.
‘Hi, Sam, how are you? I’ve missed you. What are you building?’ She planted a quick kiss on his cheek. He tasted of sun cream and his skin was gritty with sand. Kate looked up at her mother and smiled, shielding her eyes with her hand. ‘Hello, Mum.’
Her mother marked her place in the book with her finger. She said, ‘What are you doing here, Kate?’
‘Well, I’m just enjoying the sunshine, same as you.’
Sam offered Kate a bucket half-filled with shells; she took it and kissed the top of his head.
‘Did Elizabeth tell you we’d be here?’ Barbara said.
Kate inspected her bitten-down nails. ‘Yes. Okay, she did. And I came looking for you. But it’s a free country. I’m just enjoying half an hour on the beach with my son and my mother. I’m not doing any harm.’
Barbara said nothing. The sounds of the seaside settled over them – seagulls screeching and children squealing, the waves breaking on the shore. Sam’s chatter soothed Kate’s mind, and soon she relaxed, stretching out her legs in the sand, laughing when Sam decided to try and bury her feet. She wriggled her toes, tipping back her long hair, feeling the heat of the sun on her bare shoulders.
Barbara unpacked a picnic, and Kate watched, fascinated, as Sam drink a beaker of milk and ate his sandwiches. The last time she’d seen him eat she had been spooning him mashed-up sweet potato and milk mixed with baby rice. Now he was sitting up unaided, feeding himself with his own sticky fingers.
‘Mum,’ she began, as Barbara cleaned Sam’s face with a wipe and started to tidy away their lunch things, ‘I just want to say–’
‘We have to get back,’ Barbara interrupted. ‘Sam has a nap in the afternoon. He gets very tired otherwise.’
‘No, Nana,’ Sam wailed, stamping his foot in the sand. ‘No nap.’
‘Sam.’ Kate kneeled next to her son and wrapped him in her arms. ‘You must do as your Nana says. Sleep is important. I should know,’ she added, smiling ruefully at her mother. ‘I was asleep for almost a year.’
But Barbara didn’t return her smile. ‘Thank you,’ she said stiffly. ‘Sam, pick up your bucket now and let’s go.’
Sam shook his head. ‘No,’ he told her. He sat down on his bottom suddenly, covering himself in sand all over again. ‘Not coming. No nap.’ He pointed to Kate, who was fitting her crutch back under her arm in preparation for the trek along the beach. ‘Only if she come too.’
***
Being allowed to go back to the house with them might have seemed like a minor victory – and given Kate precious opportunities for extra cuddles, and the chance to observe his new toddler-size car seat arrangement – but all too soon Sam was whisked away and taken upstairs for his nap. Kate waited at the bottom of the stairs. There was something she needed to know before she left.
‘Mum,’ she said, when Barbara descended holding a baby monitor to her ear, ‘where’s Dad? Why wasn’t he here on Friday?’
‘He was busy.’ Barbara glided past her and moved into the kitchen. Kate waited a beat, then followed.
‘That’s it? Too busy to see his own daughter? Tell me the truth – he doesn’t want to see me, does he? He’s still too angry. Or is it that he can’t face me?’
She watched her mother grip the edge of the sink, saw her shoulders raise, then lower.
‘Yes, Kate. You’re right. He is still very angry. That’s why I’ve arranged your visits with Sam for days when he isn’t here. To protect you. I thought ... I thought it would be for the best.’
‘Oh. Well, okay. And ... how are things with him?’
Her mother crossed the room and folded herself into a chair. She smoothed her skirt, then laid her hands on her lap. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said.
Kate posi
tioned her crutch at her elbow, suddenly feeling at a disadvantage standing as she was in front of the window while her mother sat serenely at the table in the shade. She began to move out of the sun, but was stopped in her tracks by her mother’s words.
‘I see you have a new crutch to lean on, Kate. No need for the drugs anymore?’
Kate rocked back, her face burning. ‘That’s uncalled for, and you know it. I wasn’t taking drugs, Mum, and I have no idea how they got into my flat. Sam and I were making a new life for ourselves, away from all that. Away from Evan and his poison. And you were a part of that new life. I thought we were making progress when you came to stay.’
‘I left your father on his own here,’ Barbara said. ‘He was sick, he begged me not to come. He said he’d never forgive me, but I still came. I wanted to be there for you, for my daughter. And my grandson.’
‘Well, I didn’t know that. You never said he was ill. But you know I was grateful. You got me – you got us – through a bad patch.’
‘You couldn’t cope with a baby,’ Barbara snapped. ‘It was obvious to me you were making a complete mess of it.’
Kate tried to calm herself. She took another shaky breath.
‘Look, I am so grateful for the way you’ve looked after Sam. I can see how happy he is, what a great job you’ve done.’
‘It isn’t a job, he’s my responsibility. I have a court order that says so.’
‘Right. And to be honest, I’m surprised you’re not waving it in front of my face right now. Mum, that court order won’t mean a thing when they find out Sam’s own mother is perfectly fit and well and is living right here in Corrin Cove, waiting to take care of him.’
Barbara said nothing. Kate shifted her weight; her legs were beginning to ache now, and she still had the walk to the bus stop to negotiate, and then the walk back up Bow Hill. ‘Mum, it doesn’t have to be like this. I know we’ve had our differences, I know you disapprove of some of the choices I’ve made in the past – hell, I disapprove of some of the choices I’ve made! But I’m older now. I’m a mother. I’ve been through a lot, and I’ve spent the last year of my life in hospital. Do you think you could cut me some slack? Couldn’t we come to some kind of arrangement, you and I? In Sam’s best interests? Couldn’t you put your own feelings to one side for long enough to do that?’
‘But, Kate,’ Barbara said, smiling sweetly, ‘that is exactly what I am doing. All of this is for Samuel’s benefit, and we are making arrangements. And as I said to your social worker –’ she spoke as though social worker was a dirty word ‘– you may visit Samuel on Wednesday, and then twice a week after that. And once a date is set, we’ll let the court decide.’
‘Twice a week!’ Kate swore under her breath. Elizabeth had kept that part of the arrangement to herself. ‘That is outrageous.’ She shook her head violently, aware of a pounding in her chest, of the rising of bile in her throat.
Barbara got up slowly, not scraping the chair across the tiles, but lifting it so as to make no noise at all. She crossed to the sink and filled a tall glass with tap water. Kate would have preferred noise, would have preferred shouting and recriminations – all the normal things that families did; the kinds of things that led to reconciliation, to a clearing of the air. The kind of thing her family had never managed to achieve.
‘You may come and see Samuel on Wednesday,’ Barbara repeated, sipping genteelly from the glass.
‘By the way, Mum, his name isn’t Samuel. It’s Sam. Sam Steiner. It says so on his birth certificate. Or have you had that changed, too?’
‘Does it really?’ Barbara mused, turning down her mouth at the corners. ‘How interesting. Well, no matter. He answers to Samuel now.’
A sound in the hallway caught Kate’s attention, and she turned, suddenly fearful that Sam had woken up and heard them arguing. But it wasn’t Sam. It was a man Kate hardly recognised. His skin was ashen, his eyes oddly sunken, his once imposing frame now a shadow inside a tweed jacket and navy slacks.
He said, ‘Why, hello, Kate!’
Behind them, Barbara dropped her glass on the floor. They turned, all three of them, and stared at the wreckage.
***
Her father sat with his back to her, looking out over his immaculately kept garden. Kate made a bet with herself that her parents had a gardener: a man from the village who was paid a pittance to keep their own little patch of England looking at its very best. The man’s wife probably came in and cleaned for them, too.
‘Dad,’ she said, standing in the doorway, unwilling to commit herself to actually being in the same room as him just yet. He spun around in his chair.
‘Kate,’ he said, affecting both surprise and pleasure. ‘All freshened up now?’
She nodded and sat stiffly on the wicker sofa with orange tapestry cushions. The room, with its three glass walls and glass ceiling, was stiflingly hot. She focused her attention on her hands and steadied her breathing. The last time she’d been in here, Sam had been playing at her feet, with all the plans she had for taking him home with her and starting to build a new life with him still alive in her heart.
The last time she’d been in a room with this man she had said words no daughter should have to speak.
She took a shallow breath, and looked down at her hands.
‘Ah, Kate.’ Her father got out of his chair and came to sit next to her on the cane sofa. She tried hard not to shrink away from him. ‘It is good to see you. You didn’t need to run out like that just now, you know. I’m not a monster. I should have been here last week when you came to see little Samuel. Your mother, well, you know how she is. She always …’ He tailed off, his gaze wandering back towards the garden. Kate braced herself, but clearly he had decided against going any further down that road.
‘Why, Kate,’ he said suddenly, peering at her out of those strangely sunken eyes. ‘You’ve changed so much! You’re so thin and pale. What did they do to you at that hospital?’ He shook his head as if bewildered. ‘Still, you’re here now, that’s all that matters. Got yourself set up nearby with a place to stay already, your mother tells me. That really is an achievement for …’ he paused, apparently struggling to find the right words. Kate knew he had been about to say, ‘For someone like you’.
‘For anyone,’ he finished. He sank back into the sofa as though exhausted.
So, that was how it was going to be. He was going to try and make it easy for both of them, try and brush everything under the carpet. Kate wondered whether guilt had finally caught up with him, or whether this was just another form of denial.
‘Your mother and I were so worried about you when you walked out. How could you just fall off the face of the earth like that? Your mother was very distressed.’
‘I didn’t fall off the face of the earth. I was in Manchester.’
But she knew that to him it amounted to the same thing. He mumbled something, and shook his head again. Then he reached to the floor and came up with a jar of mints. He offered the jar to Kate.
‘No,’ she said. ‘No, thank you.’
Kate looked at her father as he bent down to return the jar to the floor. She was taken aback once again by what she saw. He looked so much smaller than she remembered, for one thing. In her mind, whenever she had thought about him during all these years, he was always at least six feet tall, if not taller. And he was solid – not exactly well-built but he had a presence to him, one that made other people respectful, sometimes uncomfortable. She wondered now whether this had been all in her mind. The man sitting by her side, as far away as was possible on such a small sofa, was shorter and skinnier, shrunken in every way. But it occurred to her that her memories of him came entirely from the perspective of a child.
Looking at him now, Kate found it hard to believe he was the same man who had once beaten her mother so badly that her arm had been broken in four places. The same man who had once so frightened his five-year-old daughter she had tried to drag her bookcase across her room to shut him out.
She realised he was speaking, his words failing to make it all the way across the years to reach her ears. With effort she pulled herself back to the present. He was asking her about her plans. Was she intending to stay in Corrin Cove for a while?
Kate shook her head incredulously. ‘Of course I’m staying, Dad. At least until I get Sam back home with me where he belongs.’
She expected an argument, or worse. But all he said was, ‘Right. Good. Well, that’s all sorted then.’
What was sorted? Had she missed something here?
‘So you’re happy for me to see Sam?’ she asked.
‘Of course! He is your son. We can’t stop you seeing him, Kate.’ He smiled at her, those glassy eyes, those stretched lips. Her father. A stranger. Her reached out and touched her hand. She shivered. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘Everything is going to be fine.’
Chapter 7
The idea had come to Barbara the following morning. It started as a tiny thought, niggling at her, refusing to let go. It was a bad idea. It was a brilliant idea.
It was a very, very bad idea. But it had the potential to solve all her problems. Particularly now it looked as though David had decided to take up with the opposition.
Time for her to get an ally of her own.
Looking around the library, Barbara wished she still lived in a time when it was a librarian’s main duty to say ‘Shush’ as often as possible. She had come into St Austell, not wanting to be seen by anyone who recognised her at the local library in Corrin Cove – and definitely not wanting to risk being seen by Kate, whom she knew was an avid reader. The place was too big for her liking, too noisy for comfort; the rowdy group of kids at the computer next to hers were extremely off-putting and had responded to Barbara’s own shushing with hysterical laughter.
Outrageous. She could have used the computer at home, of course, but that was in David’s study and she might have found herself in the awkward position of having to tell him what she was doing. She knew next to nothing about computers – there was probably a way for him to tell what she’d been looking at, which would lead to all sorts of awkward questions. That would never do. Better to suffer the public library and try and make the best of it.
Keeping Sam Page 4
