Keeping Sam

by Joanne Phillips

  ‘Kate?’

  She awoke with a start to find Patrick leaning over her. He was smiling, but the smile was strained. She looked around, disorientated.

  ‘I must have fallen asleep,’ she told him, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands.

  ‘You haven’t been asleep for long, but the storm came over really quickly.’

  ‘Storm?’ she said, but already she was becoming aware of the pelting rain on the roof of the tree house, the water lashing in through the window, the violent rocking of the tree tops. ‘Oh, my God. Are we okay up here?’

  Patrick didn’t answer. He was pulling at the blankets, searching for something. The light had all but gone, although it couldn’t be more than three or four o’clock, and everything inside the tree house looked rubbed out and blurry. Kate shook her head, trying to clear it.

  ‘Did you fall asleep too?’ she asked him. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘We need to get back to the car,’ he said. ‘We don’t want to get stuck out here in a storm.’

  ‘Why? I mean, it’ll be okay, won’t it? It’ll blow over.’

  He stood up, holding two blankets and a torch. His face was deadly serious. ‘Kate, you do not want to be stuck on top of a tree in the middle of a lightning storm. Now, it’s getting dark, it’s absolutely hammering it down out there, and the storm is getting closer. We need to get you down, and fast. Those steps are going to be slippery as hell, and it’s harder going down than up, even in good conditions. It’s even harder when the light starts to go.’

  ‘Oh.’ Kate swallowed and looked out at the darkening sky. He was right. The climb down would be treacherous, especially for someone whose legs were already tired and not used to such strenuous activity. She stood up gingerly, wincing at the stiffness in her thighs. Patrick watched her, his expression grave. A blast of icy rain blew in through the window and hit her in the face. She reeled back, catching her breath.

  ‘It’s my fault,’ she said, wiping her face on her sleeve.

  Patrick turned to the doorway, gesturing for her to follow. ‘No, it isn’t. Right, when we get outside you’re going to be soaked quite quickly, so here’s the plan–’

  ‘I saw the storm coming.’ She had to shout above the wind now to make herself heard. ‘Earlier, when we first came up here. I saw the cloud formation coming in over the sea. I know the signs, Patrick. I grew up here.’ She shook her head angrily. ‘I should have said something.’

  ‘Kate, it’s weather. There’s nothing we can do about the–’

  A sudden flash and an almighty crash of thunder sent them both reeling back inside the tree house. Kate blinked; she could only see red, then black, then her vision began to clear.

  ‘Did you see that?’ Patrick shouted.

  ‘What was it?’

  ‘The lightning. I think it hit the staircase. Hang on.’

  ‘Wait!’

  Kate reached out after him, but Patrick was already running across the walkway. Kate stood in the doorway, sheltered from the driving rain, and watched him check the other supporting tree. He ran back, already drenched to the skin.

  ‘It’s no good,’ he said, stepping inside the wooden structure and shaking off the water like a wet dog. ‘The lightning strike has split the trunk. There’s no way we can get down that way.’

  Kate stared at him, open-mouthed. Patrick sighed, his chest heaving. ‘Kate, you’re going to have to go down the ladder.’

  ***

  ‘Are you ready?’

  ‘As I’ll ever be,’ Kate whispered. There was no one to hear her; Patrick had gone down first. His parting words – ‘All the better to catch you if you fall’ – had hardly been reassuring. He shouted up again now, but his voice was lost to the wind. Kate shivered, then moved her hands and feet in unison, the way Patrick had shown her, and began to descend.

  She could feel him trying to brace the rope ladder from below, trying to keep it as stable as possible, but it was in the middle that it began to lurch wildly backwards and forwards, and here she began to lose her resolve. It was impossible. Her hands were frozen and wet and slippery; water was running down from her soaking hair into her eyes; every muscle in her body was shaking with effort. Somehow she kept on moving her hands and her feet, downwards, onwards, and then, suddenly, she was at the bottom, her feet hitting the ground, the wonderful stable ground, her body falling limply into Patrick’s waiting arms. He held her close for a moment, steadying her, his breath warm in her hair. Then he held her away from him and peered into her eyes.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  She nodded. She really didn’t think she could speak.

  ‘Oh, my God, Kate. Well done. You were amazing.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she whispered. It was nothing, she thought. You should try learning to walk again.

  ‘Come on,’ Patrick said, slipping his hand into hers. ‘Let’s get you home.’

  They half ran back to the jeep, Patrick navigating the way through the trees. ‘I know these woods better than I know myself,’ he told her, and Kate smiled at this. When they arrived back at the jeep, he helped her into her seat, treating her like a precious cargo. Then he ran around to the driver’s side and jumped in.

  He looked across at her and grinned.

  ‘Not bad for an afternoon out,’ he said. ‘Do I know how to show a girl a good time or what?’

  ‘You certainly do,’ Kate answered weakly. ‘You sure gave me a big surprise.’

  ‘Here, put this over you. It will stop you getting a chill.’ He took the spare blanket out of a carrier bag and leaned over to wrap it around her. She turned. Their faces were inches apart.

  ‘Patrick,’ she said, ‘I ...’

  He put his finger on her lips, then traced the curve of her cheek, brushing her wet hair out of her face, squeezing some of the water out of it with the corner of the blanket.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered. ‘For ruining our afternoon.’

  He was so close Kate could feel his breath on her cheek, could see only his mouth, could hear only his voice. ‘I thought we couldn’t help the weather,’ she murmured.

  ‘True.’

  Kate held her breath. The moment stretched out, frozen. And then Patrick leaned in and touched his lips to hers.

  ‘Thank you for a lovely day, Kate,’ he said. He met her eyes, then he moved back and started the engine.

  Kate gripped the blanket close to her as they set off down the rutted track and headed out of the woods. It smelt of Patrick. The rain had eased a little, but the track was muddy and the headlights picked out fallen branches and wide flooded depressions, and once a scampering rabbit, confused and far from home.

  ‘Marie will be wondering what we’ve been up to all this time, won’t she?’ Patrick said once they were clear of the woodland track.

  Kate let out a groan. She really didn’t feel like Marie’s special brand of inquisition right now.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Patrick said, bouncing the jeep around a corner. ‘I’ll just tell her that we slept together and then I saved your life. That should shut her up.’

  Kate smiled and closed her eyes. Yes, she thought. It probably would.

  But when they arrived back at the house on Bow Hill, Marie wasn’t waiting with an expectant expression, demanding to know where they’d been all day, eager for the gory details. Instead, she was standing in the hallway, looking for all the world as though she’d been standing there half the afternoon.

  ‘Kate,’ she said, her voice small and apologetic. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘What is it?’ Kate rushed to her friend and grabbed both of her hands. She thought of Sam, only Sam. Please God, don’t let anything have happened to Sam.

  ‘There’s a man here,’ Marie said, her face crumpling with anxiety. ‘He’s waiting for you in your room. I shouldn’t have let him in, it was so stupid. But he said he was your friend, he said you were expecting him. Well, of course, I knew you weren’t or you would have said. I mean, you would have, wouldn’t you? If you
were expecting someone?’

  Kate could feel Patrick behind her. She had the feeling he was braced, ready to prop her up again at any moment. She focused on Marie, trying all the while to calm her thoughts. No, she thought. Please don’t let it be him.

  But she knew, before Marie spoke his name, that her worst nightmare was already a reality.

  ‘He said he was Sam’s dad, Kate. He said you would want to see him. It’s Evan. I’m so sorry.’

  Chapter 14

  Barbara stood at the drawing room window and watched the car pull into her driveway. She looked at her watch, then back at the car. It wasn’t a taxi, but some kind of utility vehicle. A jeep, perhaps? Kate must have got a lift from someone, no doubt the man Evan had mentioned earlier. Although Barbara had known this was coming she didn’t feel prepared for it one bit. In the downstairs cloakroom she had just enough time to reapply her lipstick before the doorbell rang with its up and down tune. She raised her eyes to the ceiling, then went to let her daughter in.

  Evan, Barbara was beginning to realise, was a bit of a liability.

  ‘I didn’t know it was supposed to be a secret,’ he’d said when he turned up on her doorstep that morning, looking her up and down appraisingly and laughing at her concern. She’d only just managed to usher him into the garage before David came downstairs for breakfast.

  No, thought Barbara, neither did I exactly. But she hadn’t expected Kate to find out so soon either, and the fact that Evan had taken it upon himself to simply turn up at Kate’s and announce his presence had left her feeling sidelined. This was her plan, not Evan’s, and she, Barbara, was supposed to be calling the shots. But then she imagined Kate holed up in her grotty bedsit – Evan said it was a real dump of a place with paint peeling off the window frames and no central heating – and the image gave Barbara a faint buzz of pleasure. More ammunition for her case. He also said that Kate had no idea what he was doing here, only that Barbara had contacted him ‘for Sam’s benefit’.

  Which was something, she supposed.

  After sending Evan off with strict instructions to talk to no one else, Barbara had steeled herself for her daughter’s inevitable visit. She regarded Kate now with wariness, noticing that she was no longer leaning so heavily on the stick that Barbara found so disconcerting. She was getting better, getting stronger.

  As they moved into the hall, Barbara could sense Kate scanning the house for Sam. ‘He’s on a play date,’ she said, not bothering to turn around. Kate said nothing.

  In the dining room they took seats facing each other across the polished furniture. Barbara smoothed down her skirt, unable to keep her hands still. She noticed a patch of dust on the bookcase by the window; she must have missed it earlier. It was no wonder, really. Not when she had all this going on.

  ‘I must say, you’ve surpassed yourself this time, Mother. That was a master stroke indeed. You must feel very proud.’

  Barbara flinched at her daughter’s voice. The level of disgust was unmistakable. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she countered. She fingered the antimacassar on the arm of the chair, shifting it slightly so the pattern matched that of the chair fabric perfectly.

  ‘It won’t work,’ Kate said. ‘Whatever plan you’ve got for Evan, you’ve bitten off more than you can chew.’

  ‘Oh, spare me the clichés. I contacted Sam’s father – what possible harm could that do?’

  ‘You know what kind of a person he is. You wouldn’t have done it if you didn’t think there’d be some benefit in it for you. Are you going to try and get him on your side? Get him to stand up in court and say he thinks Sam would be better off with his grandparents instead of me? Is that your plan?’

  ‘It’s none of your business what Evan and I have discussed,’ Barbara said. ‘Or with whom he thinks Samuel should live.’

  ‘It’s none of his business, you mean,’ Kate corrected. ‘Mum, he has a criminal record. You do realise that, don’t you? If Evan is your trump card then you are going to be sorely disappointed.’

  ‘Is that all?’ Barbara looked at her watch. ‘Well, if you don’t mind I need to put lunch on.’

  ‘Did you not think of me at all?’ Kate leaned forward, her head tilted to the side. ‘When you came to stay with me I told you all about Evan. I told you what he was capable of. How could you have brought him back into our lives like this? Back into Sam’s life?’

  ‘You know as well as I do the cards are stacked in your favour. Yes, the court will listen to the child’s mother, but it will give equal weight to the wishes of his father. What choice did I have?’

  Kate stood up, making Barbara squint to see her face. ‘You could have just worked it out with me instead of keeping me away from Sam. We could have had joint care of him for a while. There were lots of options open to you. You could have done what was right, what was best for him in the long run.’

  ‘And let you win? Not a chance.’ Barbara kept her back straight. She would retain her dignity throughout this ordeal no matter what her daughter did or said. No doubt the hysterics would start soon, the whole thing reduced to an emotional circus. She was certainly her father’s daughter.

  But Kate only looked at Barbara levelly and said, ‘It is not a game. There are no winners and losers here. Only a child without his mother, and a mother who is sorry for the mistakes she made in the past and who wants to put them right. A mother who needs to be with her son.’ And then she folded her hands in her lap and turned her gaze to the window.

  Barbara thought for a moment. This new Kate was bothering her. She had expected rages and tears and accusations – and she was prepared to defend herself against them. She had nothing to offer up to this calm judgment. The silence settled over them like a thick, suffocating blanket. Barbara looked at her watch again.

  ‘Tell me,’ Kate said suddenly, her voice barely more than a whisper, ‘was finding Evan Dad’s idea? Did he put you up to it?’

  For a second or two Barbara considered letting David take the blame. But what was the point? In less than three weeks they would be in court, and Barbara needed to keep her daughter as rattled as possible.

  ‘No,’ she said triumphantly. ‘It has nothing whatsoever to do with him. In fact, your father is all for you having Samuel back. He doesn’t want him here with us, he never really has. Says we should give Samuel back to you, as though he’s a lawnmower we borrowed for the weekend.’

  Barbara forced herself to stand, heading for the kitchen. Her daughter followed. Barbara could feel eyes boring into her back. ‘What?’ she snapped, swinging around, her face suddenly twisted with rage. ‘What do you want from me?’

  ‘You know,’ Kate said, walking to the breakfast bar and perching her small frame on a stool, ‘there was a time when I would have answered that question by saying I wanted you to be a normal mother, to care enough about me to take some action. Now – now I wouldn’t bother. There’s nothing normal about you, is there? Just something very, very sad.’

  Barbara ground her teeth in fury. ‘How dare you! How dare you insult me in my own home. There is nothing wrong with me that having a decent, respectful daughter wouldn’t cure.’

  ‘You’re probably right, Mum. But whose fault is that? I didn’t ask to be brought up in this environment. I didn’t ask to have a violent drunk as a father, and an emotionally distant mother. But I got them anyway.’

  ‘How you can sit there and make those accusations about your father is beyond me. It’s all in your head, always has been.’

  A fragment of memory tugged at Barbara’s mind – a picture of her daughter at Samuel’s age, wobbling down the stairs and calling for her mummy, her hair stuck up on the top of her head as though she’d been pulled by it …

  She shoved the memory aside and felt her way to the sink, clinging to it blindly. Kate’s voice came at her, relentless.

  ‘You’ve always been in denial about it. Even now, after all this time, you just can’t admit that he was a violent man. Even though you know
I saw him hit you dozens of times. I remember you going to hospital. And you know he lost his temper with me, too. But you did nothing. Is that why you won’t accept it? Because you feel guilty?’ Her daughter paused, but Barbara wouldn’t answer. She ran cold water over her wrists. Her head was pounding. It was becoming harder and harder to think clearly. And all the while Kate’s voice droned on …

  ‘He used to come up to my room sometimes, after you two had had one of your fights. He used to sit there and cry. I could smell the alcohol, but I had no idea what it was. If I made a noise or said the wrong thing he’d grab my hair and slap my face so hard I would see stars. I thought they were real stars – for years I was frightened of the night sky. Once he told me that if I didn’t stop crying he’d hold me upside down over the stairs and drop me, and that my head would be squashed inside my body for ever. But I hadn’t even made a noise. And you – you did nothing. Later I came to you, when he’d gone to bed or passed out or something, I came to you for reassurance. I was so frightened. Do you know what you said? Do you remember?’

  Barbara’s head was going to explode. She rounded on Kate and screamed, ‘Get out of my house. Get out, get out, you evil child.’

  Her daughter didn’t flinch. Instead she shook her head slowly. ‘No, Mother. What you actually said was, “You must have been asking for it, Katherine”. That was how you comforted me, that was how you protected your own daughter. So when you ask yourself now why I turned out the way I did, so ungrateful and so useless, living with a low-life like Evan all those years, you just remember that. And if you’re still wondering why I’m determined not to leave my son with you for a second longer than necessary, then think on this – it’s not just my father I can’t trust. It’s you as well. Sam isn’t safe with either of you, and make no mistake – I won’t rest until I get him back.’

  For a second or two it was quiet, and Barbara breathed in the silent air, relishing it, letting it wash over her. Then the front door slammed so violently it rattled the pans on the shelf above her head. No! Barbara thought. I can’t let her go like this. She raced out after Kate, finding her already inside the strange car, backing out of the driveway. Frantically, Barbara rapped on the passenger window, signalling for Kate to wind it down. Her daughter looked up at her, her face a mask of disgust.