by Sue Margolis
She puts down her glass. “OK … I had a meeting with her doctor this afternoon. He confirmed what I suspected, that she doesn’t have much time left. Her heart is weak. The arteries are blocked. But there’s no question of surgery. She wouldn’t survive. When I asked him how long she might have, he wouldn’t commit himself. But he didn’t contradict me when I suggested it was months rather than years.”
I ask if this means she’s made up her mind about moving in with Edith. “I’m still torn. Part of me says I should move in. But she’s such a difficult, vinegary old woman. I am still very angry with her… .”
“Of course you are,” Mum says. “She threw you out of the house. You have every right to be angry. If you want my advice, move in and let her see that you’re angry. Where is it written you have to be all sweetness and light?”
“But she’s dying,” Ginny and I say, practically in unison.
“It doesn’t matter,” Mum says, jabbing her knife in front of her. “Honesty is what matters. Just because she can’t face what she did to you and wants to sweep it under the carpet, it doesn’t mean you have to. Keep confronting her. It doesn’t have to be in a hostile way. Believe me, it’s the only way you stand a chance of a proper reconciliation—one that really means something. She’s banking on you feeling sorry for her and that you will walk on eggshells around her. Don’t do it.”
“It all sounds a bit hard-hearted,” Mike says.
Ginny says she’s not sure she’s got the stomach for it.
“It is hard-hearted and you will need to be strong, but I’ve seen it work.”
I look a question at my mother.
“Estelle,” she says.
Of course.
She explains that Estelle Silverfish and her older brother were raised by their impoverished widowed mother. “They didn’t have a pot to piss in—if you’ll excuse my French. Anyway, all her life poor Estelle played second fiddle to the brother. As far as her mother was concerned, the boy could do no wrong. What money she had, she spent on him. The sun shone out of his backside. Meanwhile Estelle was virtually ignored. So, when her mother was dying, Estelle confronted her. She demanded to know why she had loved her brother more. At first the old lady denied she had a favorite. She told Estelle she was imagining it. But Estelle refused to back down. She kept on at her mother, insisting on an explanation. Finally, a few weeks before her mother died, she got what she’d been waiting for. It turned out that she thought a boy was more likely to be successful in life than a girl. Bear in mind that this woman was dirt-poor and feared for her old age. She thought her son, not her daughter, was the one who would be in a better financial position to look after her when the time came. The irony was that the son died in a car crash in the eighties, and it was Estelle who looked after her mother when she got old. But the point I’m trying to make is that with honesty came forgiveness. Estelle says those last weeks with her mother were the happiest of her life. But peace only broke out because Estelle forced the issue.”
“Goodness,” Ginny says. “Well, that’s certainly food for thought.”
“Right … speaking of food,” I say, eager to lift the mood. “Who’s for dessert? Mum made cheesecake.”
Mum is serving seconds of her cheesecake (“you have to use curd cheese. Philadelphia won’t do”) when my mobile starts ringing on the coffee table. I want to ignore it, but Mum says it could be Sam. I assure her he’s fine and that it won’t be him, but she insists that something might have happened. “Quick, answer it.”
“Seb’s on the same trip,” Mike says. “I thought they weren’t allowed to call home.”
As I head over to the coffee table, I explain about Sam’s special dispensation.
“You’re being too slow,” Mum says. “He’ll ring off.”
I grab the phone. It is Sam. I nod at my mother.
“What did I tell you? Is he all right?”
“Hello, darling. You’re calling late. Everything OK?”
“Grandma, you have to believe me: I didn’t do what they’re saying I did. They’re all lying… .”
“Whoa, Sam. Hold on. Just take a breath and calm down… .”
“Something’s happened. What did I say? Nobody listens to me. What is it? Is he in hospital?”
“Mum, be quiet.” I lower myself onto the sofa. “OK, start again and tell me slowly what’s been going on.”
He’s close to tears, spewing out facts in no particular order. I keep having to stop him and make him repeat himself. But from what I can gather, Sam has been accused of stealing.
Ben Wilkinson, who is in Sam’s class and in a dorm a few doors from Sam’s, has had his iPad stolen (somehow he managed to sneak it past Mrs. Gilbert’s gimlet eye). It appears that Sam was seen sneaking out of Ben’s room after lunch. Then, this evening, before bed, one of Sam’s roommates was sitting on Sam’s bunk and found the iPad under the duvet. “But I didn’t steal it. I didn’t. You have to believe me.”
“Of course I believe you. Somebody’s out to cause mischief. Do you know the name of the person who says he saw you sneaking out of Ben’s room?”
“Seb. He says I was holding it. But he’s lying. He’s lying.”
“Seb saw you?”
“Yes. He thought I was just borrowing it. That’s why he didn’t tell any of the teachers.”
I look across the room at Mike, who’s starting to look troubled. “What is it? What’s going on?”
I hold my palm out at him.
I ask Sam where he is and where the teachers are. He’s in the office, on the landline he used to call home. The teachers are having dinner. “Let me speak to Mrs. Gilbert.”
“But she wasn’t going to call you until tomorrow.”
“I don’t care. I’d like to speak to her now. Please go and fetch her.”
He tells me to hang on.
“So?” my mother says.
“Sam’s been accused of stealing an iPad.”
“What? Oh, for heaven’s sake, that’s ridiculous. Don’t worry. It’ll turn out to be something of nothing—just kids getting up to mischief. It’ll sort itself out. You’ll see.” She gets up and begins gathering and scraping plates. Ginny says she’ll start loading pots into the dishwasher.
Meanwhile Mike is asking me how Seb was involved in all this.
“Apparently he saw Sam come out of this kid’s room, carrying his iPad. At the time he thought Sam was borrowing it.”
Mrs. Gilbert is on the line. I am determined not to get het up. I agree with my mother. There has to be some mistake.
“Sam isn’t a thief. I’ve never known him to steal anything. Are you sure there hasn’t been a mistake?”
“Sebastian is adamant that he saw Sam walking away from Ben’s dorm with the iPad.”
“I’m finding this so hard to understand. There has to be more to it. Sam doesn’t lie, and I’m sure Sebastian doesn’t.”
By now Mike is hovering in front of me, asking if he should speak to her.
I shush him and shake my head.
“OK,” he says, “but at least put your phone on speaker.”
I hit the speaker icon.
“Mrs. Devlin—has Sam told you about his sister’s Star of David necklace?”
“The Star of David? What about it?”
“When Sam arrived, he was wearing it. He said it was for good luck. I made him take it off in case he lost it. But he’s been showing it to all his friends… . Apparently it’s very old and has an interesting history. From what I gather he’s made no secret of the fact that he stole it from his sister.”
“Sam stole Rosie’s Star of David necklace? But he knows how precious it is to her. Why would he do that?”
“Like I say, he’s been using it as a good-luck charm. And in case you’re worried, I’ve made sure he’s put it away and that it’s safe.” She pauses. “Mrs. Devlin, please don’t take this the wrong way… .”
“I’ll do my best.”
“The thing is … Sam is under a lot of str
ess just now. His parents have been away a long time. He’s got this big chess tournament coming up. If we look back at his recent behavior … first there was the gun incident. Then you caught him setting off fireworks. And now this. I am inclined to agree with Dr. Connell. I think Sam is unhappy and crying out for attention.”
“Do you?”
“I do.”
“Well, please don’t take this the wrong way, but that’s bollocks.”
“Look, I know there isn’t any love lost between you and Sebastian’s mother and that this is hard to come to terms with. But I do think you should keep an open mind.”
I am fighting to stay calm. “Sam is not a thief.”
“But he admits stealing from his sister. He’s been bragging about it.”
“That’s different. He would never steal from anybody else.”
“You can’t be sure of that.”
“Yes, I can.”
“I think that under the circumstances it would be best if you came and collected Sam. And you should let his parents know that the school takes stealing very seriously. There will be a meeting with Mrs. S.J. We might well decide to suspend him for a while.”
“That’s absurd. How can you suspend him on the word of one child? Suppose Seb has accused Sam because he has an ax to grind.”
“Sebastian has no ax to grind. Even though they’re in different years, the boys are friends. The poor lad was sobbing when he told me about Sam stealing the iPad. And afterward he actually threw up. That’s how upset and traumatized he is. It’s taken us longer to calm him down than Sam.”
“You still can’t be sure you’ve got the full story. What if somebody put Seb up to it?”
“I asked him that. Nobody put him up to it. And what reason would he have to hurt his friend? All the evidence points to Sam being the guilty party. I really do think you should come and get him.”
“Fine, I’ll be there in the morning. But I will not have Sam found guilty and sentenced by some ridiculous kangaroo court. You haven’t heard the end of this.”
I put down the phone and sit shaking my head, insisting to Mike that there has to be some explanation.
“Of course there is. They’re both good kids. Your mum’s right. It’ll sort itself out. Just give it a few days.”
CHAPTER
eighteen
Sam dozes—head lolling on his shoulder—most of the way back to London. He didn’t sleep much last night and he’s white and puffy-eyed with upset and exhaustion. He’s also pretty grubby, but that’s the least of his—or my—worries.
He wakes up just as we’re coming off the motorway.
“Are we nearly home?” he says, rubbing his neck, which has gone stiff from all the lolling.
“Not far now. Hungry?”
“Bit. We couldn’t stop for McDonald’s, could we? I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday. I’ve been too upset.”
We each demolish a Big Mac and large fries. Sam has Coke. I have black coffee. I’ve been up since six, and I need more caffeine than a Coke can offer.
“As soon as we get home, it’s a bath and bed for you. We’ll talk later.”
He dips a couple of fries into a puddle of ketchup. “No, I want to talk now. You have to believe me. I didn’t steal Ben’s iPad. I swear it.”
“Maybe not. But you stole Rosie’s Star of David. That was a wicked thing to do.”
“Does she know?”
“Not yet. She thinks it’s still in her drawer.”
“Does she have to find out? I could put it back. She would never know I took it. That way she won’t hate me. You can still punish me.”
“And punish you I will, don’t you worry. But why did you do it?”
“I was jealous.”
“Of Rosie? Why?”
“Because Nana Frieda gave her a precious thing and not me. And also because I was worried about going on the trip and I wanted something to bring me good luck. Rosie said the star was for good luck.”
Thinking about it, I guess it would have been more even-handed if Mum had found something to give Sam as well. But that didn’t give him an excuse to steal.
“Nana gave the star to Rosie to help her. She didn’t do it to upset you. Remember how frightened Rosie was when she thought there were Hitlers under her bed? Nana adores you, Sam. You know that. She didn’t set out to exclude you.”
“I know. I just thought that having the star might make me less homesick.”
“That’s still no excuse. You know what upsets me even more? The fact that you were bragging to your friends about stealing it. Where did you get the idea that stealing is cool?”
He shrugs like a truculent teenager. “Dunno.”
“So, were your mates impressed?”
“Not really.”
“That’s because they’ve got more sense.”
“Fine. Perhaps they have. But I didn’t steal the iPad. Seb is lying. I don’t know why he is, but he is. We’re meant to be friends. After I let him fly my kite that time on the Heath, he said that even though he was in the year above me, we could be friends. Now he’s done this.” Sam’s eyes are watering up. “I hate him and I want to kill him.” There’s real fury and venom in his voice. I watch him as he rubs his eyes with the heel of his palm. This child isn’t lying.
“It’s all right, my darling. I believe you. We’ll get to the bottom of it. Don’t worry.”
• • •
It’s me, not Sam, who sneaks into Rosie’s room and puts the Star of David back in her drawer. She will never be any the wiser. I know I’ve done the wrong thing. Sam doesn’t deserve to be protected from his sister’s wrath. He needs to understand that actions have consequences. But just now Sam’s got more important things to worry about and I’d rather we focused on them. Meanwhile I confiscated his computer and his chess set. He wasn’t bothered about losing the computer. The chess set was another matter. “You can’t take it away. I need to practice for the tournament.”
I told him he should have thought about that before stealing from his sister.
Of course Mum thinks it’s all her fault that Sam stole the Star of David. “I should have given him something. It was so stupid of me. How could I leave him out like that? He must have felt I didn’t love him. But at the time, I was so worried about Rosie.”
“That’s what I told him. Stop feeling guilty. He knows you love him.”
But she can’t help feeling that she did a bad thing and she’s overcompensating by giving Sam extra hugs, pinching his cheek so that he cries out and telling him not to worry and that we are going to sort this iPad thing out. “We’re David and the school’s Goliath,” she says. “And we’re going to win—just like Erin Brockovich.”
“Who’s he?” asks Sam.
“Your grandmother will explain.”
• • •
Mum has been asking me if I’m going to tell Abby and Tom what’s happened. She insists they have a right to know. Of course they do. But I don’t want to worry them unnecessarily. I want to wait a few days until I know a bit more. I have a plan. I’m going to speak to Seb. Since Claudia would never agree to me speaking to him, I’m going to ask Mike if he can arrange it. Mum says he’ll never go for it because his first loyalty is to Claudia. But I think that if I suggest we speak to Seb together, he might.
I haven’t spoken to Tanya in a while, so I call her first to tell her what’s been happening and to ask what she thinks of my plan. She’s all for it. She even offers to seek Seb out in the playground next week and interrogate him herself. She thinks it would look less obvious and it wouldn’t involve Mike. I thank her, but I don’t want to go behind Mike’s back.
“Judy, I’m so sorry this has happened. It’s crap. You don’t deserve it. More to the point, Sam doesn’t deserve it. He’s a good kid.”
“He is. But so is Seb and that’s the problem.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. Seb could well have problems. Claudia sets herself up as the perfect mother. But you never know what
goes on behind closed doors.”
“I agree. You don’t. On the other hand, Seb and Hero seem like lovely kids.”
When I call Ginny, she’s also in favor of speaking to Seb. But being Ginny, she can’t resist saying what’s on her mind.
“Judy, please don’t take this the wrong way, but have you considered the possibility that Sam did steal the iPad? Kids do bad stuff. It doesn’t mean they will become bad people.”
“I know. But he swears he didn’t do it.”
“I’m sure he does. He’s your grandson and of course you believe him. All I’m saying is keep your wits about you. Sam might not be innocent. And another thing … don’t let your loathing for Claudia cloud your judgment.”
“I’m not.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
I’m still on the phone to Ginny when the doorbell rings. Mum goes to answer it.
I can hear a woman’s voice. “Hello. I’m Sebastian’s mother. Is Judy home?”
“My God. Talk of the devil. You’ll never believe who’s at the door.”
“Claudia? You’re kidding. What on earth can she want? I mean, it’s not as if it’s Sam who’s accused Seb of stealing.”
“Well, it looks like I’m about to find out. I’ll let you know.”
“OK. Good luck. And whatever she says, keep calm.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Mum comes back into the kitchen, wide-eyed and whispering, “It’s her. Seb’s mum. She wants to see you. I’ve shown her into the living room. She doesn’t look too pleased. I’ll be here if you need me.”
“Where are the kids?”
“In their rooms.”
“OK—whatever you do, don’t let them come downstairs. This could turn ugly.”
Claudia is standing in the middle of the room, dominating it with her height. She’s wearing a gray cashmere poncho. On me it would look comical. On her it looks chic and elegant.
“We need to talk,” she says by way of greeting.
“What about?” I direct her to an armchair and sit myself on the sofa opposite. The arrangement couldn’t be more confrontational.
