Keeping Sam (15 page)

‘She’s no saint,’ Barbara said hotly. ‘She’s been round here, throwing around all sorts of accusations. Dragging up the past. You want to talk to her about her behaviour. She has issues, you know. She’s not ready to be a mother.’

‘Samuel will be the one to suffer in the long run if you and your daughter are at each other’s throats. And Kate said ...’ Elizabeth tailed off, shaking her head.

‘What? What did she say?’

The social worker sighed heavily. ‘Just that Evan is a liability. He’s already offered to share your money with Kate and string you along until the last minute. She wanted you to know that she’s not playing games. She wants you to know you can trust her but you can’t trust him.’

‘Rubbish,’ Barbara said automatically, but her brain was working hard, trying to process what this woman was telling her. Evan was a liability alright. But right now, he was all she had on her side.

Barbara closed the door and leaned her forehead against it briefly. She turned around and jumped, her hand flying up to her mouth.

David was standing directly behind her.

‘And what,’ he said, his face as grey as stone, ‘was all that about?’

***

‘You can take that look off your face right away, David. You’re no saint so don’t bloody well judge me.’

Her husband blinked and looked away. But then he swung back to face her, his expression hard. ‘No, I’m no saint. You’re right. And I’m only just beginning to realise the extent of my mistakes and the damage I’ve done. I was hoping to be able to put things right, but you seem to have this … agenda. I don’t know you anymore, Barb.’

‘What does that mean – put things right? Are you going to steal Samuel away from under my nose and take him to Kate? Because I’m telling you now, David, if you even try such a thing I’ll –’

‘Don’t be stupid, woman. You’re becoming hysterical. I care about that boy. Whatever happens has to be done properly.’ He regarded her through narrowed eyes. ‘No one around here seems to be sinking to that kind of level except you. What the hell were you playing at, getting that man involved? You said he was a criminal, a drug dealer. Have you lost your mind?’

Barbara sat down suddenly on the narrow wooden bench behind her. Coats hung off hooks, draping over her shoulders; by her feet was a basket of outdoor shoes and three pairs of slippers for guests to wear in the house. It had been years since any guests had come to stay in the house.

‘Don’t worry about Evan,’ she said. ‘I can handle him.’

‘Can you? I doubt it. But what about Kate? How did you think she would feel, seeing him again? Why must you keep punishing her like this?’

‘Me? I’m punishing her? Oh, that’s rich coming from the man who used to terrify her so much she’d wet the bed twice a week.’

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Barbara wished she could take them back. She held her breath, her eyes wide and startled.

Her husband crumpled before her eyes, slumping forward towards the hall stand, holding onto the coat hooks for support. Barbara jumped up and put her arms around his back. She couldn’t afford for him to lose it now. A crisis of conscience would be fatal. Somehow she had to get him back on side with her.

‘It wasn’t your fault,’ she told him, stroking his rounded back with her thin hand. ‘She always was a difficult child, always bleating and moaning, looking at us with those judging eyes – it must have driven you crazy. And I didn’t help, did I? The things I did to wind you up, not really understanding it from your point of view … It must have been so hard.’

She paused, thinking of where to go next, but before she could say another word David twisted himself out from between her arms and pushed her bodily away from him.

‘Get off me. You disgust me, Barbara. You disgust me through to my bones. I was a terrible father to Kate, a drunk and a tyrant, and I’ve denied it to myself for far too long. It’s time to try and make amends. I can only hope it’s not too late for me … But you, yes, you’re right. You are as bad as me. You will stop at nothing to get what you want, even blaming your own daughter, your own child, for what I did to her – what we did to her.’

He flung her hands from him as she tried to grab at his wrists. Barbara looked up at her husband’s face and what she saw there was more terrifying than the anger she’d faced down so many times before.

‘You’re on your own in this, woman,’ he told her through gritted teeth. ‘I’m not going to fall in with your sick plans anymore. And anything I can do to help Kate, I will. It may not be too late for me and her. If I can make her see how sorry I am, if I can just make her see … But it’s too late for you. She’ll get her son back, don’t you doubt it for one minute, and maybe one day she’ll forgive me. But you’ll have nothing and no one. And it will serve you bloody well right.’

Chapter 18

On Friday, Kate got up and washed quickly in the en suite sink, pulling her thin dressing gown more tightly around her as the early morning chill made goose bumps rise on her arms. Soon it would be October; already the heat was draining from the days, the darkening evenings bringing with them an autumnal feel. She cleaned her teeth and listened to Patrick moving around above her. They’d hardly spoken since the previous weekend. Kate had the feeling he was keeping out of her way. She sighed and spat out a mouthful of froth. She didn’t blame him. First her ex turns up, then her crazy mother chases them down the driveway, and then he sees her kissing Evan in the street. It was unlikely Patrick would want to get involved in anything so messy. It was a shame, though. Her body, asleep for far too long, had woken up in Patrick’s arms, and now it seemed unwilling to forget his burning touch.

As soon as she was dressed, Kate sat down at her sewing machine, forgoing her usual morning walk in light of more pressing matters. A group of Marie’s friends had heard about Kate’s dressmaking skills, no doubt from Marie’s own lips, and had brought over a bag full of clothes needing alterations: a pair of trousers that sagged at the waist, a designer skirt needing shortening, three dresses to let out around the waistline, and a bolero jacket with a piping trim that needed repairing.

‘This is amazing,’ Kate had gushed, but Marie wouldn’t take any credit.

‘You’re getting work from your own advert, too,’ she pointed out. ‘And make sure you charge this lot good money. They can afford it.’

Kate grabbed the first item off the top of the bag and set to work with her unpicker. She’d have to redo the waistband completely, she decided, in order to do a professional job. Designer clothes were a little outside her comfort zone, confined as she’d been up till now to children’s clothing and vintage dress patterns, but she worked methodically and soon began to enjoy herself. Just after ten, Marie came up with coffee, nodding her approval when she saw how much Kate had done.

‘They’ll have to come in for a proper fitting,’ Kate said, holding up the trousers. They looked rather forlorn with their interfacing exposed and the back seam half unpicked.

‘Of course,’ Marie agreed. ‘Those belong to Laura – did I tell you she lost ten pounds this summer?’

Kate grinned. Only about a hundred times. Losing weight was Marie’s latest obsession, along with worry about her wrinkles and being paranoid about looking old. Marie was pacing now, picking up random objects and putting them down again. She sighed heavily, then flopped down onto Kate’s neatly made bed.

‘I don’t know, Kate. I’m starting to wonder if it’s all worth it.’

‘What do you mean?’ Kate grabbed her coffee and pulled her chair closer to her friend.

‘Oh, it’s nothing really. Just silly old me.’

‘Marie.’ Kate regarded her friend over the rim of the mug. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘It’s Big Tony,’ Marie said, sighing again, her shoulders slumping. ‘I think he might be losing interest in me again. He hasn’t called in a few days. He’s probably seeing someone else.’

‘No! Surely not?’ Kate was genuinely shocked. From what she’d heard, Big Tony was a reformed character. ‘He wouldn’t do that to you.’

‘Wouldn’t he?’ Marie pulled a rueful face. ‘He’s done it before. Many times.’

Kate’s thoughts returned to Evan, who had been texting her constantly these past few days, pressuring her to make a decision. She’d kept his offer to herself, unwilling to listen to Marie’s inevitable ‘I told you so.’

‘Come on,’ Kate said, pulling her chair a little closer. ‘Tell me what’s happened.’

‘Nothing.’ Marie shook her head. ‘Forget I said it. Look, what’s that you’ve got out over there? They look like photos.’

Marie crossed the room and collected up the photographs Kate had scattered across the floor the previous night.

‘They’re from the box that was in storage,’ Kate explained. ‘I keep going through them, trying to piece it all together.’

‘You mean the attack?’

Kate nodded. ‘There must be something I can do to try and remember. I just keep thinking the answer is there in my memory somewhere. If only I could access it … I want so badly to be able to put it to bed, you know? To understand what happened leading up to the attack, and to know for sure who, if anyone, planted those drugs.’

‘If anyone?’ Marie picked up on Kate’s tone at once. ‘Are you saying what I think you’re saying?’

Kate lifted her shoulders briefly. ‘I don’t know. That’s the problem – I
don’t
know. Maybe it was me. Maybe I had started smoking again, just as a way to cope. I was lonely, I know I was struggling. And you know what they say – old habits die hard.’

‘No. I won’t have it, Kate. You were – you are – a good mother, and you wouldn’t have done that with Sam in the house. No matter how lonely or depressed you were.’

‘Maybe I was in pain? It works for pain. I had a friend up north who used to take it for her migraines. She’d bake it into chocolate brownies.’

‘Brownies?’ Marie laughed. ‘Well, I’ve heard everything now. Do you have the recipe?’

Kate laughed too, but then her expression grew sombre. ‘I’m certain it wasn’t me, but if it wasn’t then how did those packages get inside the toilet? If I could just clear that up, prove I am one hundred percent blameless, I’d feel so much better about this court hearing. Especially with Evan on the scene again. He’s such a wild card, Marie. You never know what’s going to happen with him around.’

‘Maybe it was him,’ Marie suggested. ‘Maybe you were getting back together and he left them there.’

Kate shook her head. ‘No, he was already in Scotland by then. And we weren’t getting back together, I’d definitely remember that. Besides, I asked him about it already. He’s just as much in the dark as I am.’ She sighed and took the photos out of Marie’s hands. ‘Memory is a funny thing. I remember almost everything now, but the day of the break-in is still a total blank.’

‘Do you still get the nightmares?’

Kate nodded grimly. ‘And I still believe that if I could only bring myself to turn around in my dream, I’d see who it was. I think that’s what happened, in real life I mean. That I turned around and caught the intruder.’

‘And that’s why he knocked you out,’ Marie added.

They sat together in silence for a while, staring at the floor, each locked in their private world of memory and regret. Kate’s phone began to vibrate; she glanced at it but didn’t recognise the number.

‘I’ll wait and see if they leave a message,’ she said. But even as she spoke the house phone began to ring in the hallway, and Marie heaved herself up to answer it. Kate waited, listening to the ticking of her watch, the creaking of the old house as it settled into itself. Sometimes, she thought, you just have a sense for bad news. When it turns out you were wrong you forget all about it, but if you’re right, you remember those moments before you heard the news for the rest of your life.

‘Kate.’

Marie stood in her doorway, her face drained of colour. For a second Kate reflected that Marie really shouldn’t die her hair that flat black shade; it did absolutely nothing for her.

‘It’s for you,’ Marie said, handing her the cordless phone as though it was made of china. Kate tucked the phone to her ear, but reeled back as soon as she heard her mother’s voice screeching down the line.

‘Kate? Kate, are you there? Is that you? Your father is in hospital, fighting for his life. Are you happy now? This is all your doing, the stress, the worry, all your fault. You’ve killed him, Kate. And I will never, ever forgive you.’

***

At the hospital, Kate prowled the waiting room, throwing occasional glances at her mother, who sat apart from them staring into space. The woman hadn’t spoken since they’d arrived, but the accusations she’d thrown at Kate still rang in her ears.

‘Looks like she’s finally sobered up,’ Kate whispered to Marie, coming to rest next to her on one of the green upholstered chairs. Patrick sat on Marie’s other side. He’d brought them here, answering Marie’s frantic phone call with a calm voice and an instruction to sit tight and wait for him.

But now he looked out of place, too vivid and outdoorsy to be cooped up in this bland, scrubbed-down space, and Kate wished he’d just dropped them at the front entrance and gone back to work as she’d asked. She almost wished he’d taken Marie with him. Who were these people, really? She only knew them by virtue of fate; if Elizabeth had found her a different place to lodge she’d never have met them at all. And yet, here they were, closer to her than her own family. Far closer than that distant woman over there.

She looked up at a notice board filled with brightly coloured posters for various support groups. One of them offered bereavement counselling. Kate turned away from it, offended. Marie twisted her hands together and chewed on her lip; she’d already bitten off all her bright red lipstick, and her hair looked like she’d been dragged through a hedge. Anyone would think it was Marie’s father in there, not Kate’s. But she knew it was Barbara’s presence that had sent Marie into a frenzy. Her friend was conflicted, wanting to offer comfort to the wife of a desperately sick man, while at the same time feeling a deep antipathy for the woman who was causing Kate so much pain.

Welcome to my world, Kate thought, getting up to resume her pacing.