Keeping Sam

by Joanne Phillips

  Her mother was an ice-maiden, and Kate didn’t know whether to be impressed by her calm stoicism or embarrassed by her coldness. The woman was immaculately dressed as usual, hair perfectly styled and freshly coloured, nails sharp little half-moons of pink when she removed her calf-skin gloves. She made Kate feel like an unwashed tramp – albeit from a distance.

  If any of the mourners knew that David had a daughter, or that she was here right now in their midst, they didn’t show it. Kate was more grateful than ever that she had Marie by her side. Her friend was a rock throughout the service, and now she helped Kate keep her emotions in check as they stood outside in the rain, watching the vicar commit her father to the earth.

  It was only then that Kate allowed herself to cry. She cried for the father she wished she’d had, and for the one who had hurt her so badly. She took the perfumed hanky Marie held out and pressed it to her eyes, her nose, covering her face to hide the sight of the soil that was now being shovelled on top of the pale wooden coffin. It landed with a thump and Kate winced at the sound.

  She turned away, unable to watch any longer, and came face to face with her mother.

  ‘Mum.’

  ‘Kate.’

  At close range Barbara’s face was far from the groomed picture of perfection it had appeared to be from a distance. Lines bracketed her mouth, and her eyes were swollen slits, their blue turned to black under the darkening sky.

  ‘Mum, are you okay?’ Kate shook her head. Stupid question. ‘Listen,’ she said quickly. ‘I need to talk to you. It’s about Evan.’

  ‘Not now,’ her mother said under her breath, and she turned away sharply.

  ‘I remembered,’ Kate called, hurrying after her. ‘I remembered what happened the night of the attack. Mum, it was Evan. You can’t trust him. You mustn’t ... Mum, where are you going?’

  Most of the mourners had drifted away from the graveside, but a few lingered, trying to look as though they weren’t listening to the exchange, although they clearly were. Kate felt her face grow hot with embarrassment. She glanced at Marie, who was opening and closing her mouth like a goldfish. Then she noticed a figure striding across the graveyard, his face like a beacon in the greying afternoon.

  ‘Am I glad to see you,’ Marie hissed, throwing a dark look over her shoulder to where Barbara stood, outlined against the sky like a statue.

  ‘I only just got your message,’ Patrick said, steering them past the worst of the puddles onto the gravel path. ‘I’d have come sooner if I’d known.’ He glanced at Kate, and she saw the hurt there, naked and exposed, although he quickly altered his expression back to one of concern.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I only told Marie this morning.’

  I had one or two other things on my mind, she thought. ‘I’m glad you came, though,’ she said. ‘Really glad. To both of you. Thank you for being here for me.’

  Marie squeezed her arm, then told her to get a move on. ‘This rain isn’t doing anything for my frizzy hair.’

  Kate allowed herself to breathe again, tilting her face up to the sky and letting the rain cool her skin. This was not the day for a confrontation, not the time to expose the truth about Evan to her mother. Emotions were running too high all round.

  But when they reached the car, Kate turned to see her mother doggedly following, a look of grim determination shadowing her face. Patrick had already got into the driver’s seat and was waiting for Kate to join him. She bent her head to his half-open window. ‘I have to deal with this. Hang on a minute.’

  ‘So what new lies are you cooking up now?’ Barbara said quietly, glancing back over her shoulder at the churchyard. ‘Have you no shame?’

  Kate shook her head and looked at her mother sadly. ‘It’s not a lie, Mum. Evan slipped up. He saw something in my flat, my old flat, something he could only have seen if he’d been there after he’d already left. Once I’d realised ...’ She lifted her shoulders and dropped them. ‘It all came back to me. I know it was him because it was him. I remember.’

  The rain had drenched Kate’s face so completely that she hadn’t even noticed she was crying, and it was a surprise now to find the tears falling from her eyes with no effort at all. Kate saw that her mother’s face was also soaked, the heavy make-up washed away in streaks of black and brown. Despite all that has happened, Kate thought, she is still my mother.

  ‘Why don’t we go back to my place and talk about all this properly?’ she said. ‘We’re both getting drenched here and it’s really cold.’

  Barbara shook her head violently.

  ‘Mum, don’t be–’

  ‘Are you sure?’ She gripped Kate’s arm with surprising strength. ‘Are you sure it was him?’ Kate nodded. Her mother appeared to slump in on herself, and then she whispered something under her breath before turning and walking unevenly back towards the church.

  As they drove away, Kate watched in the rear-view mirror. She watched her mother recede further and further, until she was out of sight completely.

  Chapter 25

  ‘Hi, little man,’ Kate said, bending down to kiss the top of Sam’s head. Would she ever get tired of the feel of his hair on her face, of his special, sweet smell? They settled into their usual visit routine, and Sam chattered to her constantly as he played, crawling in and out of an indoor tepee, bringing Kate pretend meals and books to read. She loved the sound of his voice, loved letting it wash over her like a cleansing bath of sound. Even now she could remember the exact pitch of each of his cries as a baby. From day one she had instinctively known what each cry meant.

  When his chatter stopped suddenly, Kate looked up and followed his gaze out through the centre’s reception area to where her mother was standing, staring into space.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Kate asked him.

  He twisted away, averting his face. ‘Nana sad,’ he said, so quietly she had to strain to hear him.

  ‘Is she?’ Kate thought for a moment, flicking her eyes back her mother, then down to where her son sat, chewing on his fingers. ‘Would you like me to talk to her?’ she asked him. Sam nodded and smiled broadly. He grabbed hold of Kate’s hand and gave it a sloppy kiss.

  ‘Mummy kiss it better,’ he said, glancing back out to reception.

  Much good it will do, Kate thought, but she promised to give it a try.

  ‘Sam, before I go today there’s something I need to tell you.’

  He looked at her expectantly. Trustingly.

  ‘The thing is, sweetie, both your nana and I love you very much. You know that, right?’ He nodded, his eyes enormous in his solemn little face. ‘And you know that you’ve been living with her for a while now. While I was …’

  ‘You were asleep,’ Sam told her. ‘Like Sleeping Beauty.’

  Kate stopped and stared at him. ‘That’s right, Sam. What a lovely way to think of it.’

  ‘Pops told me. He said you were under a spell, but that you woke up and came back.’

  Kate swallowed hard. She took a deep breath and tried to focus. ‘Well, that was very kind of Pops. And, as he said, I’m back now. I woke up and now I’m back. So how would you like it if you came to live with me for a while? Only if you wanted to. Only if you liked it, Sam.’

  He regarded her carefully, weighing it up. She waited, her breath caught in her chest.

  ‘Bring my bricks?’ he said.

  ‘Of course,’ Kate gushed eagerly. ‘You can bring whatever you want. And we’ll visit Nana, and you can still see all your friends. It will be like an adventure. Okay?’

  He shrugged and nodded. ‘Okay.’

  Kate sighed in relief. One hurdle over. Now it was time to tackle the next one.

  ‘You wait here for a moment, sweetie. I’m just going to go and talk to Nana.’

  Barbara greeted her coolly, and Kate had the feeling she’d been watching them the whole time, despite her distant stare.

  ‘Sam wanted me to talk to you. He said you were sad.’

  ‘Under the circumstances that�
��s hardly surprising, is it?’

  ‘Mum,’ Kate said softly, ‘can’t we sort this out? It’s not too late. Nothing has been done that can’t be undone.’

  ‘Can you bring your father back from the dead?’

  Kate looked away. ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Evan’s gone. I thought you’d need to ... I thought you’d want to tell the police. I have his address here. The one he had in Scotland.’

  Kate took the folded sheet of paper and looked at it. ‘Thank you. This means a lot to me.’

  ‘It doesn’t change anything, Kate.’

  ‘Doesn’t it?’

  ‘Some things can’t be undone.’

  Barbara’s voice seemed to catch in her throat. Kate looked up in surprise. She tried to see her mother’s expression, but the light was behind her, throwing her face into shadow.

  Chapter 26

  Barbara was staring out of the window, lost in thought, when Samuel toddled into the dining room, rubbing his stomach. He asked about dinner and Barbara looked at him in surprise. She had forgotten about dinner, forgotten about food entirely. She held out her arms to him and he climbed up onto her lap.

  ‘When Pops home?’ he asked, his voice muffled against her blouse.

  ‘Not for a while,’ she told him gently. What else could she say? She had tried so hard to explain but the words never seemed to come out right. The truth was, she could hardly believe it herself. The man had been such a huge presence that the house seemed shrunken without him. It also seemed far more run-down than she’d ever noticed before. Now, the list of jobs and repairs was already starting to crowd her mind and make her feel weary to her bones.

  ‘Hungry,’ Samuel said.

  Barbara sighed and placed him on the floor where he looked with interest at the photos Barbara still hadn’t put away.

  ‘Who that?’ he said, pointing to the disembodied head of Kate aged eight years old.

  ‘No one,’ she said sharply. Samuel looked up in alarm. Barbara turned away, not liking what she saw in his face. Kate had looked at her like that sometimes – afraid but also accusing, her young mind already forming judgments, or so it had seemed to Barbara. She bent down stiffly to gather up the pieces, and then told Samuel to go upstairs and wash for dinner.

  ‘Come too?’ he said hopefully.

  ‘Go on, now.’ She made a shooing motion with her hands

  ‘Want Pops!’ he cried, his voice turning into a wail.

  ‘Please, Samuel,’ Barbara said, pushing him away. ‘Not now.’

  The boy trudged out of the room, and soon she heard his sullen footsteps as he climbed the stairs. She looked at the half empty glass making a ring on her polished table and considered filling it up again. But as she got to her feet the floor seemed to tilt, and she realised that she was in fact very slightly drunk. She grabbed the glass and held it to the wall.

  ‘Cheers, David!’ she said, hearing the slurring of her words. ‘Cheers, you old bastard. Thanks for leaving me on my own, for bailing out just when I needed you. You had to have the last laugh, didn’t you? Same as always.’

  She slumped back into the rocking chair and downed the rest of the gin and tonic in one swallow. The doctor had been less than half her age – younger than Kate, even. He’d said that her husband had known he was getting worse but had chosen not to tell anyone. Surely he would have told his own wife. Barbara couldn’t make sense of it. A picture of her daughter sprang into her mind, huddled in the waiting room with those two rag-tag friends of hers – that woman, embodying mutton dressed as lamb, and the man, the way he’d looked at Kate, the way his eyes followed her around the room ...

  ‘Nana. Nana! I stuck.’

  Samuel’s voice pierced her thoughts. She gazed at the ceiling – where was he? Oh, yes. Washing his hands. Stuck?

  ‘Nanaaaaa!’

  Barbara heaved herself out of the chair, calling to Samuel to wait for her. The stair gate must have accidentally closed behind him on his way up. She’d been telling David to take the blasted thing out for weeks – Samuel could manage the stairs fine now, he was so much more advanced than other children his age.

  ‘Nana, look at me.’

  ‘Samuel, no! Get down from there at once.’ Barbara lurched across the hall, reaching blindly for her grandson. Samuel was balanced on top of the gate, one chunky leg on either side, waving his arms like a windmill.

  ‘Weee, Nana,’ he called, laughing in delight. ‘Look at me. I can fly.’

  Chapter 27

  ‘How did it go this morning?’

  Kate looked up from her sewing to see Marie standing in the doorway, bearing coffee.

  ‘I keep getting this feeling of déjà vu,’ she joked, smiling at Marie’s puzzled expression. ‘You, bringing me coffee and asking how I am. It’s becoming rather a habit.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ Marie looked around for somewhere to set the tray, then put it down on the floor. ‘Having a sort out?’

  Kate’s room was indeed a mess, with photographs and paperwork scattered over every surface, piles of clothes on the bed, and at least three unfinished sewing projects hanging up at various intervals around the walls.

  ‘I’m trying to get on top of things, that’s all.’

  ‘Ready for Friday?’

  Kate nodded. ‘Whatever happens, I want to be ready.’

  Marie hugged her coffee cup and offered Kate a chocolate biscuit. ‘What will you do if you don’t, I mean if it doesn’t … If things don’t work out the way you want them to?’

  Kate looked up sharply. ‘If I don’t get my parental rights restored, you mean? Well, there’s not much I can do, is there? But I’d like to stay on here, if that’s okay with you. The court will still give me access to Sam, and he’ll come and stay here whenever he can. And when he’s older …’ She regarded her friend for a moment. ‘This isn’t like you, Marie. You’re usually so upbeat about it. Have you changed your mind? Do you think I won’t get Sam back now?’

  Both Marie and Patrick had been quiet since the funeral, Patrick keeping himself to himself and Marie only appearing once a day with coffee, and only staying for a short time to chat. Whenever Kate let herself into the house she expected to see Marie popping out of her room like one half of a weather clock, but since Monday she’d been strangely absent.

  ‘No, that’s not what I meant,’ Marie said, rubbing her eyes. ‘I’m sure it will all work out fine. No court in the land is going to deny that you’re perfectly fit to look after your own son.’

  Kate wished she felt as confident. But she smiled and told Marie about her visit with Sam, and how comfortable he seemed with the idea of coming to live with her.

  ‘That’s nice.’ Marie’s voice was flat, devoid of inflection. Kate looked at her more closely, then she pushed back from the sewing table and came to sit by her side.

  ‘What’s up, Marie?’

  ‘Nothing. The sky? I don’t know, is it a trick question?’

  ‘Good try at throwing me off, but I know you. Something’s upset you.’

  Marie sighed, long and heavy. ‘It’s Big Tony. He wants to take me out tonight. You know that new Chinese on the promenade? Well, he wants us to go there. He asked me on Monday, said he’d booked a table and everything. Tonight’s our anniversary, you see. I mean, it would have been our anniversary if we hadn’t got divorced.’

  ‘That’s really sweet.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Marie looked down at her hands, her face a picture of dejection.

  ‘I’m missing something here, aren’t I?’ Kate mused. ‘So, a date at a swanky new restaurant, an anniversary celebration. And that’s making you sad because…?’

  ‘Because,’ Marie cried, ‘he’s either going to propose to me or break up with me, that’s why!’ She jumped up off the bed, dislodging two of the piles of clothes Kate had spent the morning sorting. ‘Sorry,’ she said, throwing them back onto the bed haphazardly. Kate got hold of her hands and made her sit down again.

  ‘Marie, leave it. Now, what do yo
u mean, propose or break up with you? What kind of crazy talk is that?’

  ‘He only ever takes women to restaurants when he wants to get married to them or break up with them.’ Marie imparted this information as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

  ‘I see,’ Kate said, although she didn’t see at all. She wondered yet again what the draw was with Big Tony, and why a sensible, vibrant woman like Marie was so hung up on him in the first place. But then she saw the agony in her friend’s eyes, and decided it was none of her business. ‘So,’ she said, ‘it’s one or the other. And you have absolutely no idea which?’

  ‘I think maybe … the first one?’ Marie said in a small voice.

  ‘Okay. And you’re unhappy about that? Happy about that? Not sure?’

  ‘Happy.’ Marie jumped up again, yanking at her clothes and pulling a disgusted face. ‘But look at me, Kate! I’m old and past it. I’m wrinkly and frumpy and the very idea is just ridiculous. There’s no way I can go to a fancy-schmancy restaurant with him – as soon as he sees me in that context he’ll surely realise that he can do better, and then he’ll change his mind and choose the second option.’

  ‘First of all,’ Kate said, pulling Marie over to the mirror, ‘you are not old, or past it, or wrinkly and frumpy. And he can not do better than you.’ She bit her lip and wondered whether to risk her next comment. ‘He should know, right? He’s tried to replace you enough times.’