Keeping Sam

by Joanne Phillips

  ‘Thank you,’ Kate said again, joy and gratitude swelling in her throat. Sam waved with one chubby hand, bouncing on the bed in excitement.

  ‘Telly,’ he said, his eyes gleaming.

  Kate closed the door and turned to smile at her son. She looked at her watch, then pursed her lips. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘okay. But only for a little while. And then it’ll be time for you to go to bed.’

  ***

  Sam fell asleep leaning against her halfway through a Winnie the Pooh movie; she carried him carefully to his cot and laid him inside it, covering him with a blanket and laying his beloved teddy by his side. And then she watched him. She sat on the floor and gazed through the bars, her eyes growing blurry with tears. Was there anything so heartrendingly vulnerable as a sleeping child? It was this, Kate realised, that she was missing out on. These moments of everyday joy that parents take for granted: the sight of your child asleep in the back of the car, their heads lolling, their faces perfect in repose; the sounds of laughter as they race around the house with friends, lost in an imaginary world you will never be part of, wouldn’t want to be part of, but can smile and marvel at none the less. Running to you with a cut knee; asking for help opening a packet of crisps; a random hug offered in love, asking nothing in return.

  If Kate didn’t get Sam back she would miss out on all of this, no matter how many times she was allowed to visit him. And yet, if she was successful, her mother would be the one to miss out. For the first time, Kate truly understood what that meant.

  She watched Sam sleep, and occasionally her own head drooped as sleep crept up on her stealthily. It couldn’t keep her under its spell for long – she was determined not to miss a second of having her son at home, under her own roof. Sitting on the floor in the room that was to be his room, Kate made plans. Her determination grew. And she knew that no matter what, she would have him back.

  If she couldn’t have Sam, she would rather die.

  Chapter 20

  Elizabeth arrived at nine o’clock. Kate heard her talking to Marie, who was no doubt stalling her as best she could, trying to buy Kate a little more time.

  ‘Sam,’ she said, crouching by his side as he ate his toast and watched children’s TV, his eyes clear and bright after a good night’s sleep. ‘Sam, in a minute or two you’ll be going back to Nana’s house.’

  He glanced at her, mid-bite. ‘Stay here?’ he said. ‘Stay with Mummy?’

  She smiled and blinked back sudden tears. ‘I wish you could, sweetheart. But you’ll come back soon, right? Come and stay again?’

  He nodded, then rammed the rest of the toast into his mouth. Come back soon and stay forever, Kate didn’t add. But she thought it, and she hoped her thoughts would transmit themselves to Sam somehow.

  ‘Are we all ready?’ Elizabeth stuck her head round the door and raised her eyebrows at Kate. ‘Did you have a good night?’

  Kate only nodded. She couldn’t imagine how words could explain the night she’d had, or how Elizabeth could even ask such a question.

  ‘Give her my .... my best wishes,’ Kate told Elizabeth once Sam was strapped into the car. ‘Tell her I’m here whenever she’s ready to talk.’

  Elizabeth nodded once, then started up the engine and drove away.

  Marie appeared by Kate’s side. Together they watched the car until it disappeared at the bottom of Bow Hill. ‘How are you bearing up?’ she said.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Kate told her. ‘Considering.’

  ‘All set for tomorrow? Painting Sam’s room, remember?’ Marie reminded her gently. ‘If you still feel up to it, that is. I know it’s probably the last thing you feel like now.’

  Kate shook her head. ‘No, it’ll be good to be doing something. Something practical. And it’s so lovely of you to offer to help. And Patrick too. I don’t deserve to have friends like you, really I don’t.’

  ‘Sure you do. You’d do the same, if you were in our position.’

  Kate turned to go back inside the house, but then a thought struck her. ‘Marie, is Patrick home?’

  ‘I think so, why?’

  ‘I need to ... I’ll see you later. Bye.’

  She left her friend open-mouthed on the doorstep and took the stairs two at a time. Once on the top floor, however, her resolve nearly left her. But she raised her hand and knocked sharply.

  ‘Kate, is everything okay?’

  ‘I was going to go for a walk and I wondered –’

  ‘Did Sam like the TV?’

  They both spoke at the same time, overlapping, then laughing nervously.

  ‘You go first,’ Patrick told her.

  Kate swallowed. ‘I was just saying that I’m going for a walk and I wondered whether you’d like to come.’

  ‘Oh. Right.’

  ‘If you’re busy, it’s no problem. Another time, maybe.’

  ‘Kate. I’d love to. I’ll get my coat.’

  ‘Okay, then.’ She smiled at his retreating back. It did feel better to be doing something. Much, much better.

  Patrick returned, shrugging on a checked jacket. ‘Off we go then.’

  ‘Hang on a minute. Not so fast. You didn’t tell me what it was you were going to say. Just then,’ she prompted. ‘When I talked over you.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ He looked awkward for a moment, and her heart tugged. There was something about this man. Something about the way his hair curled around the tops of his ears, the way he tipped his head down when he was nervous, and then peered out at her from under his furrowed brow. Something she just couldn’t shake. ‘I just wondered how it went with Sam.’

  ‘I’ll pay you for the TV,’ she said quickly, turning at the top of the stairs to face him.

  ‘Kate.’ He took her hand and held it to his chest. ‘Please don’t worry about it. Tell me about Sam.’

  She smiled to herself and let out a long sigh. ‘Come on, then. Let’s walk and talk. You won’t believe how cute he is when he sleeps.’

  ***

  Marie was waiting for them back at Bow Hill, and Kate’s heart lurched at the sight of her hovering in the hallway, her thoughts turning immediately to Sam. But Marie had no news, was only excited to see them together, as she wasted no time in telling Kate once Patrick had headed out to work.

  ‘He keeps odd hours,’ Kate observed.

  ‘He’s his own boss out there in the woods,’ Marie said, sighing with envy.

  Marie had a new commission for Kate – another of her friends, a diminutive lady called Janice, wanted a tuxedo-style jacket for the Christmas season. Kate was pleased, if a little bemused.

  ‘Christmas already? Isn’t it a little early for that?’

  ‘Kate!’ Marie’s hand flew up to her chest in alarm. ‘I’m shocked at you. It is never too early to start thinking about Christmas.’

  While Kate worked, Marie asked about Sam and the court case.

  ‘What will happen now? I mean, does it make a difference to the guardianship thingy? With your dad ... Look, I’m being insensitive. Sorry.’

  ‘No, it’s okay. I’ve been thinking about that too. I don’t want it to seem like I’m being heartless either,’ Kate confessed, glancing up from her sewing with anxious eyes, ‘but I am genuinely worried about my mother. We might have our differences –’

  ‘And then some!’ Marie put in.

  ‘Quite. But she’s not getting any younger. And Sam is hard work – all toddlers are.’

  ‘She must be overwrought,’ Marie agreed. ‘If she weren’t so hell bent on ruining your life I might feel sorry for her.’

  Kate smiled, grateful for the gesture of loyalty. ‘I don’t know, Marie. I can’t see a good ending to any of this. At first I was so upset, I thought that when I got Sam back I might never let her see him again. But I don’t think I could do that to her, not now.’

  ‘Despite all that she’s done?’

  ‘Because of all that she’s done!’ Kate sighed, registering the confusion on Marie’s face. ‘How can I hate someone who loves Sam so m
uch she’d sacrifice everything to keep him? What kind of a hypocrite would that make me? I mean, if anyone can understand how she feels it’s me. She deserves a bit of compassion.’

  Bending over the sewing machine, Kate tried to hide the prickling of tears in her eyes. She felt the loss of her father like a corkscrew in her soul. She would never have the chance to hear him say sorry; never have the opportunity to heal the wounds that had festered for so many years.

  ‘Well, she’s lucky to have a daughter like you,’ Marie said with a grimace. ‘It’s not long now, is it?’

  ‘A week tomorrow,’ Kate said, shaking her head. She glanced at the calendar on the wall, the red crosses marking her progress every step of the way. ‘It still feels like a lifetime.’

  ‘But it isn’t. Three more visits with Sam, and then he’ll be with you for good. And tomorrow we’ll get his room painted, get those curtains up, make it all perfect for him.’

  The curtains had brightly coloured ship motifs with pure white sails on a deep blue background and were folded neatly on top of a box of toys Kate had scavenged from the thrift shop. In Sam’s room, the cot had been covered with a protective cloth in readiness, along with the armchair and a small chest of drawers donated by Marie.

  While Marie was busy inspecting the clothes Kate had made for Sam, oohing and ahhing over each little outfit, Kate’s gaze slid to the dress that hung on the back of her door, shrouded in a dry-cleaning cover to keep out prying eyes. It was the only way she could say thank you to her friend, and she couldn’t wait to see Marie’s face when it was finished.

  ‘Will your ex be here to help with the decorating?’ Marie said, standing and stretching out her back. Kate grimaced, and shook her head.

  ‘I hope not.’

  ‘Not with Patrick around, eh?’ Marie said with a wink.

  That wasn’t the only reason, but Kate couldn’t deny it was a factor. She glanced at her watch, then sighed.

  ‘Speaking of Evan, I need to get ready. He’s taking me out for a drink tonight. We arranged it last week.’

  Marie’s eyebrows shot up so high they nearly disappeared into her hair.

  ‘It’s not what you’re thinking,’ Kate told her wearily. ‘But I can’t just ignore him, can I? He’s Sam’s dad, and he’s here in Corrin Cove large as life. And I don’t want him just turning up here whenever it suits him.’

  ‘Because that really would cramp your style,’ Marie finished, turning her eyes up towards the ceiling and treating Kate to another meaningful wink. Kate shook her head slowly, then turned away. There was no way she was going to admit to her friend how close to the mark her comment was.

  Chapter 21

  Kate managed an hour and a half with Evan before she felt compelled to go home. Sitting in a crowded bar listening to her ex recount his tales of misadventure, watching him get drunk while he pressed his knees against hers in the cramped space and grinned at her over the top of his pint, was not Kate’s idea of a fun evening.

  ‘I’ll walk you home,’ he slurred, and Kate was too exhausted to say no. Let him play the gentleman if he wanted. It could only help to get rid of him more quickly.

  For most of the short walk back to Bow Hill, Evan sang at the top of his voice; it seemed he’d picked up some old sea shanty during his brief stay in Corrin Cove, and he insisted on regaling Kate with verse after verse of it, most of which she was sure he’d made up. But she was laughing in spite of herself by the time they reached her front door.

  ‘Where are you staying, Evan?’ Kate asked him as she fumbled in her bag for her key.

  ‘TravelDen,’ he said sourly. ‘It’s a dump.’

  ‘My mother’s budget doesn’t stretch to the Grand Hotel on the seafront?’

  Evan shook his head, evidently throwing himself off balance and veering against her, almost knocking them both into the road.

  ‘Oops,’ he said, stumbling back towards the wall.

  ‘Well, thanks for the drink. Goodnight.’ Kate let herself inside, but Evan was too quick for her. When she turned to close the door he was standing behind her in the hall.

  ‘Coffee?’ he said grinning.

  ‘No, I really don’t think that’s …’

  Kate closed her mouth with a sigh. Evan was already halfway up the stairs, lurching from side to side as though he was on a ship at sea.

  She glanced towards Marie’s rooms, but there was no sign of her landlady. Evan peered down at her, shushing her loudly and gesturing for her to follow him up. Kate sighed again.

  As soon as she let him inside, Evan flopped onto the bed, patting it in what he clearly thought was an inviting fashion. Kate shook her head.

  ‘You can have your coffee, Evan, and then you can go.’

  ‘Okay, Katie. If that’s what you want.’

  ‘And can you stop calling me Katie? You know it winds me up.’

  She crossed the room, filling the kettle from the tap in the en suite. When she turned, Evan was standing in the doorway, blocking her path.

  ‘Katie. Come and sit down.’

  She pushed past him and set down the kettle, her instincts on red alert. Drunk or not, Evan was stronger than her, and he had that look in his eyes she knew so well.

  He wanted her.

  ‘Evan,’ she began, but he shook his head, his unfocused eyes not leaving her face. He reached out his hand and put a finger to her lips. When he moved he moved quickly, pulling her roughly to the bed, pinning her underneath him.

  ‘No,’ she cried, but her voice was muffled against his chest. He smelt of beer and sweat and stale aftershave, and a hot kind of energy. She couldn’t think straight, could only feel the pressure of him pushing her down, could only see his eyes, hooded and glazed, bearing down over her.

  She wriggled her arms out of his grip, heard him laugh as he mistook the wriggling for pleasure. His smug laughter gave her an idea.

  ‘Wait,’ she gasped, reaching up to place her hands on either side of his face. She kept her grip light, as though it was no more than a caring gesture. She smiled, and felt him ease off just slightly. ‘Evan, there’s no need to force me. Let’s take it a little slower, okay?’

  He peered down, his expression measuring. She gave a nod of encouragement, and suddenly his eyes cleared and he grinned.

  ‘Ah, Katie. You don’t change, do you? Still gagging for it, right? Can’t get enough of your Evan.’

  ‘You got it,’ she said, fixing a smile to her face. He shifted to the edge of the bed. She lay unmoving, holding her breath.

  ‘You know,’ he said, getting up with effort and swaying into the middle of the room, ‘all this is so pointless. You should be having a good time, not making these stupid clothes, sitting here sewing like an old granny. It was the same back in Manchester – you were so boring! And that bloody sailor outfit, I recognise that. Is it the same one or are you making another? It’s like you’re obsessed, woman.’

  He lurched towards the en suite, pointing a finger at her over his shoulder. ‘You stay right there little lady while I go take a slash. I’ll be back,’ he added with a salacious grin. ‘You can start without me if you like.’

  Kate waited until he closed the toilet door behind him. And then she was on her feet, moving faster than she’d ever moved before. Out of the door, up the stairs, her feet barely touching the worn carpet, her hands feeling the way in the half-light. There was Patrick’s door, and she flung herself against it, rapping with her knuckles, all the while staring with wide eyes over her shoulder.

  Patrick opened the door at once, and Kate stepped back, pointing shakily down the stairs. ‘Evan,’ she whispered. ‘He’s drunk, he’s …’ she tailed off, unable to bring herself to say the words.

  ‘Wait inside,’ Patrick said, moving out of the way so Kate could edge past him silently. She watched him jog down to the first floor. He was barefoot and made no sound at all.

  ‘Wait,’ she hissed. ‘I’m coming too.’

  She tiptoed down after him, sliding her eyes away
from his smooth, bare chest.

  ‘Kate, you should–’

  ‘No. I’ve had enough of standing by and letting things happen to me. I want to do this. But I need you for–’

  ‘Backup?’ Patrick offered. It was too dark to see his expression, but Kate thought he was smiling. She nodded.

  ‘Backup. Right.’

  When Evan came out of the en suite, zipping up his fly and whistling amiably, Kate was waiting for him. She had her phone in one hand and a pair of sewing scissors in the other.

  ‘You need to leave now,’ she told him, gesturing towards the open door. ‘And I don’t want to see you again. Not in court, not in Corrin Cove, and certainly not around Sam. Go back to Scotland or Manchester or wherever and get on with your life, Evan. Forget about us.’

  He laughed, lurching towards her, then veering away in mock horror, hands raised, at the sight of the scissors.

  ‘Or what? You’ll sew me to death?’

  Kate lifted her phone. ‘It has voice dialling. If you attack me again I’ll call the police.’

  ‘Go ahead, Katie. I’m sure they’ll be fascinated to visit this place. Oh, I see.’ He nodded slowly. ‘We’re not alone anymore.’

  Patrick lifted a hand in a half-wave, then returned to his relaxed pose leaning against the wall in the corridor outside. Kate’s heart banged in her chest; she focused on her hand, determined not to let Evan see it shaking. For ten seconds, twenty seconds, no one moved. Then Evan laughed again.

  ‘Hey, chill out, Katie. Take a compliment. So your old ex still fancies you, but I get it – you’ve moved on. No problem.’ He strolled out onto the landing, tipping his head at Patrick. ‘Jeez, the things people will do to get out of making a cup of coffee.’

  Kate heard Marie come out into the hallway as Patrick saw Evan out of the house for the second time, heard a murmured conversation, and then the sound of Marie’s door closing again. She shivered and hugged herself. It wasn’t cold. Patrick appeared, climbing the stairs two at a time, and then he crossed the small landing and held her close to him, making no attempt to take her either into her room or up to his own. She could feel the warmth of his chest through her sweater, the tension in the arms that encircled her. She flicked her gaze to his mouth, then she closed her eyes, waiting, not waiting, not knowing what might happen next. And then his lips were on hers, gently, the very gesture a question needing to be asked. She responded by pulling him close, losing herself in his embrace, moulding her body to his. The beauty and sweetness of it overwhelmed her; she felt his kisses on her cheeks, her lips, her eyelids, kissing away her tears, chasing away the fear. Her need became stronger, and she pressed herself to him more firmly, exploring his mouth with her tongue.