Free Keeping Sam by Joanne Phillips Page B

to see Sam it was like a physical ache. The morning brought a heavy fog that hung over a flat grey sea, tightening Kate’s chest when she went out for her walk. All the way along the promenade her stomach rolled and churned. She had a bad feeling, but couldn’t pinpoint why. Things were progressing okay; in fact, the process of getting Sam back had moved up a notch. Elizabeth had phoned that very morning to confirm that the application to discharge the guardianship order had been lodged with the court.
    ‘Are you certain there is no chance of doing this amicably?’ Elizabeth had asked again. ‘The court prefers a mediated solution in these cases.’
    Mediate it then, Kate had wanted to say. She knew it wasn’t Elizabeth’s fault, but why was everyone talking to her as though she could do anything about it? Hadn’t she tried to talk to her mother, to find some common ground?
    ‘If by amicable you mean that I simply agree to give up my son and visit him a couple of times a week then no, I don’t think that’s very likely,’ she said instead. She heard Elizabeth’s weary sigh. ‘Look,’ Kate continued, flicking her hair back over her shoulders and setting her jaw determinedly, ‘I’m happy for them to see Sam as often as they like when he comes home to live with me. They’ve done a great job, and it’s not as though I’m ungrateful. I’m not saying they’re monsters,’ she added. ‘It’s them who have a problem with me, not the other way around.’
    Kate shifted the phone to her other ear, wondering whether she was being entirely honest with Elizabeth. The knot in her stomach hadn’t eased after seeing her father on Monday; if anything it had only grown larger. Could he really have changed? And if so, what did that mean for her and Sam?
    ‘Well, that’s all good,’ Elizabeth said, winding up the call. ‘It will look good to the court that you are being reasonable, that you’re the more moderate party. Take care now. Enjoy your freedom – you’ll have Sam back very soon, I’m sure.’
    Those words had been like a balm for her soul. Kate had drunk them in, then replayed them over and over. When Marie came out, magically appearing as soon as the call was over, Kate had shared them, spoken the words out loud, and together they had started to make plans for Sam’s room, deciding what colour it should be painted, what kind of furniture he’d need.
    ‘I have a cot in the attic!’ Marie exclaimed. ‘I’ll get Patrick to fetch it down as soon as he gets in from work.’
    For once, Kate hadn’t argued.
    Her mother was courteous but cold when Kate arrived at the house.
    ‘Sam is in his bedroom,’ Barbara said. ‘You shouldn’t have any trouble finding it. It’s your old room.’
    Upstairs, Kate paused in the doorway, overwhelmed all over again at the sight of her son, at the solid reality of him. She approached him and lowered herself onto the carpet by his side. As usual, he accepted her presence with no surprise, merely passing her a slightly sticky green crayon before continuing to scratch out his own piece of art.
    As they played, Kate relaxed and began to enjoy herself. He was a clever child, and clearly sociable, unlike she had been at his age. Chatting easily, Sam pointed out his favourite toys and told her how he was going to be a builder when he grew up. Kate felt herself brimming over with liquid love, like someone had opened her up and poured it in and didn’t know when to stop.
    He called her father Pops and her mother Nana, much to Kate’s surprise – she had expected them to be more formal, more old-fashioned. ‘So,’ she said, reaching across the tiles to pick up a toy rabbit with chewed-looking ears, ‘do Pops or Nana ever shout at you?’
    The boy looked unsure and Kate corrected herself hurriedly. ‘I mean, do they tell you off sometimes?’ She smiled warmly to put him at ease, holding the rabbit out for him to take.
    ‘Only when Sam bad,’ he said quietly, taking the