Keeping Sam (12 page)

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.

As the car sped away along the lane, Barbara sank to the ground and covered her face with her hands. The gravel was sharp at her knees and pierced her tights, drawing blood. She wept, soundlessly and without thinking, only aware of the pain in her heart and the pounding fear that beat at her mind like a pulse.

Chapter 15

‘I think there’s a girl in here who needs caffeine.’

Kate looked up from her sewing machine and offered Marie a weak smile. ‘You might be right,’ she said, stretching out the tension in her neck.

Marie set the mugs down on the windowsill, then lowered herself onto Kate’s single bed – the only place in the room to sit, if you didn’t count the two rickety chairs at the dining-stroke-sewing table.

‘How are you bearing up, kiddo?’

Kate let out a heavy sigh. ‘I’ve been better. Just when I thought things were looking positive, first Evan turns up, and then I have a massive row with my mother.’ She shook her head, her eyes brimming with unwanted tears. ‘I don’t know, Marie. Sometimes I wonder if my mother isn’t actually a bit crazy. The way she looks at me, the vitriol in her voice. She really, really hates me.’

‘She can’t hate you, she’s your mother. I might not have kids, but I know that much. Mums don’t hate their daughters, no matter what.’

‘Well, what is it, then?’ Kate asked, turning to face her friend. ‘I wish someone would explain it to me. I can understand that she’s become attached to Sam, and I can understand her being anxious at first, wondering if I was well enough to look after him, worried she might lose touch with me – and him – again. But yesterday … Ah, Marie. You’d have to have been there. She is one twisted woman.’

‘And she didn’t deny that it was her who contacted Evan? The story he told you was true?’

Kate nodded.

Marie let out a low whistle. ‘Wow, that’s cold. Going to all that trouble, tracking him down through social media and goodness knows what else – she must have been really desperate to find him.’

‘He said he was in Scotland, had been working there for a while. Said he knew nothing of the accident – that’s what he called it, an accident. He flew down, apparently, as soon as he got her message.’ Kate laughed bitterly. ‘I bet she even sent him the money for the air fare.’

‘What’s in it for her?’ Marie wondered aloud. ‘I mean, how does she know he won’t side with you?’

‘Evan will go where the money is,’ Kate said, turning down the corners of her mouth. ‘If I had a big enough bank balance I might be in with a chance, but as it is –’

‘Your mother will be pulling his strings,’ Marie finished. ‘Yes, I see.’ She regarded Kate thoughtfully. Kate could see her friend’s mind working overtime, and the next thing out of her mouth wasn’t a total surprise.

‘Although,’ Marie said, ‘you might have more to bargain with than you think. It seemed to me like he was very, very pleased to see you at the weekend, what with you looking so great and all – if a little soggy – and I was thinking –’

‘Don’t, Marie.’ Kate held up her hand, cutting her off. ‘Don’t even go there. It is absolutely not going to happen.’

‘Not even for Sam?’

‘That is not fair! And no, not even for Sam. Fine, I’ve said it. Because it wouldn’t be for Sam, would it? It would be to fight against
her
, and I’m not turning this into a fight. This is about what’s right, Marie. I have to keep hold of that. Don’t you understand? I’ll be lost otherwise.’

Marie crossed the small room and gave Kate a hug. ‘You’re right,’ she said, ‘and I’m sorry for even thinking it. Now, let’s talk about something else. Did you and Patrick have a nice time on Saturday? I hope the weather didn’t spoil it for you.’

‘I wouldn’t say spoil it exactly ...’ Kate felt her body heating up as she remembered the race through the woods, Patrick’s lips on hers, his warm hands on her cold, wet skin. She had felt like a teenager again. She had felt alive.

‘Come on, out with it. You were glowing when you walked in, both of you. I saw the look on your face, before you heard about Evan the terrible.’

Kate shrugged. ‘He showed me his tree house.’

‘Did he now?’ Marie let out a loud guffaw and nudged Kate in the ribs. ‘Impressive, was it?’

‘That wasn’t a euphemism! He has a tree house in the woods. We had our picnic there.’

‘I know, I was just teasing. So, come on – let’s have the rest of it. Did you get on okay? Was he the perfect gentleman? Don’t keep me in suspense.’

Kate gave Marie a brief account of their trip to the woods, growing pink in the face when she got to the part about falling asleep after lunch. ‘It was your fault,’ she said, ‘for making such a massive picnic.’

Marie smiled, her eyes twinkling. ‘I see. And that was it? You just “fell asleep”?’

‘Don’t say it like that, as though it’s some kind of code. Yes, that was it. And then, well … You know the rest. There was a storm, we got wet. End of story.’

‘Which is why you were both so flushed when you got back,’ Marie said, smiling.

Kate nodded. ‘The buildings he’s made out there are incredible. He’s very talented.’

‘And good with his hands, I’ll bet,’ Marie said dreamily.

‘Whatever.’ Kate sipped her coffee, trying to push the images of Patrick being good with his hands in all sorts of interesting ways out of her mind.

‘He likes you,’ Marie said, winking. ‘Look how he rushed to your rescue on Saturday. He practically threw Evan out of the house.’

Kate grimaced at the memory. She hadn’t known what to do, how to face Evan after all this time. And when she’d walked into her room and seen him standing there, holding Sam’s little sailor suit and giving her that same old come-hither smile, his eyes the same eyes she’d gazed into for years and his body lean and compact, giving off his own personal brand of undeniable appeal … She had been lost then, racing back across the years, full of anger and confusion and bitter regret, unable to pull a single coherent thought out of her mind.

Evan had the better of her, as usual. ‘Why, Kate,’ he’d said, ‘you look amazing. Your mum told me you’d been in hospital, some kind of accident? But look at you! Radiant as always, and with your own little entourage of adoring fans, of course.’

This comment was aimed at Patrick and Marie, who had followed her into her room. Kate could see that Evan expected her to tell them to go, that he wanted this reunion to be private and on his own terms, but there was no way that was going to happen. It was only when he started talking about her mother, and how she’d dragged him down from Scotland that Kate had begun to react. And then the shaking had started so badly she could hardly stand up.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ Evan said, genuinely puzzled. He’d looked at Patrick, his expression measuring, and directed his next question to him. ‘So what’s your story, mate?’

Patrick’s expression darkened even further; he turned to Kate, his eyebrows raised. What do you want me to do? he seemed to be asking, but Kate was still shaking – she couldn’t think straight. She just wanted Evan to go away and leave her alone. She watched him, tracking his steps as he paced the room, picking up her things, putting them down. It was inconceivable that he was here, now. He belonged in Manchester, in the underbelly of a city, surrounded by high, blackened buildings and a small patch of sky. Not in Corrin Cove, standing by the dusty window with the light turning his white-blonde hair yellow and highlighting the sharpness of his cheekbones, the blueness of his eyes.

‘You can run along now,’ he said to Patrick and Marie, and he accompanied this with a little swishing motion of his hands. ‘Me and Kate want a bit of time on our own.’

‘No!’ She heard the word, and only then realised it was she who had spoken. Suddenly the spell was broken, and she was on her feet, bearing down on him, all the anger and resentment of the past few years spilling out of her broken heart.

That Patrick had ended up escorting Evan out of the house, possibly for Evan’s sake as much as her own, was still a source of embarrassment for Kate. And what happened outside her mother’s house was even worse.

‘I shouldn’t have let Patrick give me a lift to Woodland Cottage,’ she said now, chewing on her bottom lip. ‘It was just awful, my mum running out like that. What must he think of me?’

She shouldn’t care, but she did.

Marie shook her head, patting Kate’s shoulder consolingly. ‘No doubt he thinks you’re human, just like everyone else. And perhaps that you have a very odd family,’ she conceded. ‘But then, who doesn’t? Look at me and Big Tony! My family think I’m insane to be dating him again. But I tell them, he’s my first love. I’ve never been able to resist him – why should it be any different now?’